Cersei's SheWolf
by xLSx
Summary: "The war between the Lannisters and the Starks would soon travel down to King's Landing, but for now, a Southern Lioness and a Northern SheWolf will be together."
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This idea has been pestering me for weeks and the fact that there is little-to-no Cersei/Sansa in all of fanfiction only seemed to make the idea grow. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it ;)**

**Chapter One.**

"Lady Sansa of House Stark" The Queen Regent glanced up when she heard one of the Lannister soldiers stationed outside her chambers announce the arrival of the elder Stark girl, staying at King's Landing as King Joffrey's 'guest'. Motioning for the guard to grant her summoned visitant entry into her elaborately furnished rooms, Cersei closed the book she'd been reading and curtly placed it on her desk just as Sansa appeared in the doorway to the Queen Regent's bed chambers. The elder woman smirked to herself before gesturing for the soldier to leave her alone with Sansa.

"You look troubled" Cersei stated in a bored tone, conveying without words that she didn't actually care about the girl's response. She tilted her to the side curiously, waiting to see if the bereaved girl would answer the woman who had played a significant part in her father's death. She wouldn't complain if Sansa didn't, she hadn't called the girl into her bedchamber at this time of night to make small talk over a cup tea anyway.

"The hour is late, Your Grace" Sansa replied in an automatic, emotionless tone that had Cersei cringing inwardly.

The girl had once been so lively and passionate and yet in a few weeks, she'd been reduced to an empty shell of her former self. Cersei felt a sharp twinge of guilt begin to burn in the pit of her stomach as a result of her observations. Leaning back in her high-backed chair behind her desk, she slowly allowed her incisive eyes to unabashedly rove over Sansa's young body, clad in an unflattering white nightgown that flowed down to the Stark girl's limitlessly long legs to her ankles and a dark robe made of a light material that hung open to reveal the redhead's high full breasts and flat stomach. Cersei smirked appreciatively in the dim candle light. The ornate candelabra, encrusted with gleaming rubies, were located at strategic places around the vast expanse of her chambers but their subdued light was eclipsed by the bright fire crackling in the hearth directly opposite The Queen Regent's four-poster bed, made up with the finest silken Lannister red bedsheets.

"That it is" Cersei agreed in a gentle purr.

She certainly hoped the girl hadn't planned on actually getting any rest this night, or any night that she called the redhead into her chambers, for she had desired Sansa Stark since her eyes had first landed on the girl back at Winterfell. But she seemed doomed to be forever denied Sansa's affections after the Direwolf business. She hadn't truly wanted to have Sansa's beloved companion slaughtered but it would have seemed so out of character for her to allow the matter to settle without a debt being paid and face was everything in the Seven Kingdoms. She still harboured an intense amount of regret for the whole thing, the same went for Lord Eddard's execution, even though she had never liked the man, she had respected him and very few could boast that much.

"Wine?" Cersei asked as she gracefully rose up out of her ornately crafted chair. She already knew what Sansa's response would be. After all if the Queen Regent made an offer it was common practice to consider it a moment before making an honest decision, but if Cersei Lannister made the same offer whether they be Lord or peasant they complied instantly and they smiled brightly while they did.

"Yes, thank you, Your Grace" Sansa replied quickly.

Cersei allowed herself a moment to bask in the glorious knowledge that even inexperienced girls knew how to behave around her, before it occurred to her that Sansa's once melodious voice was now dreadfully mechanical and she despised it. It was Joffery's doing. She loved her first born son even if he could be horribly arrogant at times but this she couldn't forgive. Sansa was a thing of beauty to be cherished like a delicate flower. But apparently Joffrey was determined to expose this little flower to the harsh elements of life. Cersei sauntered towards a small serving table, a dark perfectly aged bottle of wine was set on it with two jewel encrusted goblets, they were obscenely heavy but appearances were everything in King's Landing.

"I hope you like red" Cersei commented as she took hold of the wine bottle's slender neck. She had removed stopper before she had sent for Sansa to join her, wisely giving the smooth liquid within to air appropriately before consumption, like any Lannister she knew how to enjoy fine wine. She poured the thick crimson liquid into the goblets with effortless grace.

"I've not much experience with wine, Your Grace" Sansa murmured softly as Cersei collected the goblets in either of her slender hands. She turned and regally stalked towards the younger woman, her incisive eyes trained and watching the redhead's facial expressions closely, like a hawk, to get a sense of Sansa's mood but the Stark girl remained a flawlessly beautiful statue with one constant expression as she extended one of the goblets out to her. Sansa was nervous, uncertain, but for once the younger woman wasn't in mortal fear for her life.

"Drink it slowly then" She advised gently.

She smiled in what she hoped was a comforting way though she suspected it seemed a little cold. She raised her own goblet and took a small sip of the heavenly tasting beverage, perhaps she should have just ordered Sansa to her bed the moment the redheaded walked in through the door. She was a Lannister, she was no good at coaxing what she wanted, she took it.

"Come and sit" Cersei winced inwardly.

It sounded like an order even to her ears and of course Sansa wouldn't dare disobey an order from one of her gracious 'hosts'. She took another sip of her wine as Sansa stiffly moved past her, toward the long padded bench set in front of the fireplace but not so close that one would become over heated when they were seated.

"What do you think?" Cersei murmured as she took a seat next to the object of her obsessions. She closed her eyes when Sansa instinctively shifted as far away from her as the bench would allow. This wasn't proceeding as planned. The Queen Regent almost growled at herself, she knew she shouldn't have attempted to be amiable but she couldn't bring herself to force Sansa into uncharted territory while maintaining her heartless façade.

"It is dry but sweet" Sansa mused. Cersei smiled discreetly at the slight change in Sansa's tone. It did not mean that the younger woman would instantly relax in her presence but it was better than sharing company with a distant sculpture.

"The Lannister grapes used in the brewing are often described as such..." Cersei murmured as she raised her goblet and sipped at the rich alcohol. Sansa shifted in her seat, she seemed as though she wanted to say something but was too fearful to do so. Cersei swallowed her wine, savouring the soft burn it caused as it slipped down her throat, like silk across naked flesh.

"Speak your thoughts Sansa" The Queen Regent encouraged. She enjoyed the way the redhead's name rolled off of her tongue and seemed to caress her ears. She wondered how it would sound resounding off of the stone walls of her chamber. She smirked slowly, it would be a night of firsts for her soon-to-be-lover.

"Why am I here, Your Grace?" Sansa whispered.

The Stark girl stared intently into her goblet, into the healthy flames simmering in the hearth in front of them, down at the variety of well tended furs scattered across the stone floor, looking anywhere and everywhere except at the Lannister Lioness.

"Why do you think you're here little SheWolf?" Cersei countered playfully.

She smiled in satisfaction when Sansa's head snapped up and their eyes met for the first time that night. Her smile ebbed slowly, for long minutes or hours, it was impossible to say, as she searched Sansa's brilliant wolf eyes, a perfect blend of pale blue and dove grey, those orbs were mesmerizing.

"I don't know " Sansa whispered uncertainly.

Cersei tried to stifle the shiver of awareness that caressed her spine in response, she could detect a soft note of distress in Sansa's voice and as much as she wanted to pull the younger woman into her arms and sooth her. It excited her to know how greatly she effected the redhead.

"I think you do Sansa..." Cersei drawled seductively "...But perhaps you would prefer me to show you what I want from you"

Cersei tilted her head slowly, the long fall of her long blonde hair fell over one slender shoulder, as Sansa's eyes began to burn with confused desire making them sparkle like precious gems.

"Do you consent?" Cersei whispered.

She hoped that Sansa understood the double meaning to her statement. As Queen Regent she didn't actually require Sansa's consent to take the younger woman but she would prefer it if the night's experiences were pleasurable for them both.

"Y-yes" Sansa licked her lips nervously.

Cersei's oval shaped jaw clenched involuntarily. How could someone be so tempting and yet so innocent?. She leaned forward in her seat, placing her goblet on the white fur covered floor, before straitening and holding her hand out for Sansa's drink. After placing the two goblets on the floor side-by-side she shifted closer to Sansa, feeling her warmth combine with her own, lazily extending her arm across the back of the padded bench, Cersei gently caressed the soft tresses of Sansa's long silken hair. It was such a beautiful shade of red but it was hardly Sansa's crowning feature. The younger woman's breathing was becoming heavier and heavier with each second that Cersei toyed with her hair, the only sound breaking their intimate silence before the hearth. Cersei slowly wrapped the soft mass of Sansa's hair around her hand, watching the Stark girl's pale eyes for any signs of unwillingness before she leaned forward, their faces were mere inches apart, their breath mingles, their eyes locked and Cersei could feel her heart thundering loudly in her ears.

"You are so beautiful" Cersei murmured as she closed the distance between them.

She brushed her lips across Sansa's tenderly, she sighed at the velvety feel of Sansa's lips beneath hers, she languidly kissed the younger girl urging the redhead to return her kiss. Cersei barely resisted the impulse to jerk Sansa's head back to assume dominance of their kiss when the younger woman finally began moving her lips beneath hers. The movement was so hesitant and almost timid that Cersei could feel something shifting inside of her demandingly.

"Open your mouth" Cersei whispered against Sansa's lips.

She licked the younger woman's succulent lower lip, pressing her to follow her instruction, Sansa gasped loudly in response. Cersei moaned gently and used the distraction to thrust her skilled tongue into the hot, wet chasm of Sansa's mouth, slowly learning each crevice of Sansa's sweet mouth and putting them to memory. Sansa was shifting uncertainly against her and whimpering uncontrollably. Cersei relished the combined taste of the wine the redhead had just consumed and something so distinctly _Sansa. _

"I want to feel your tongue against mine" Cersei demanded breathlessly.

She hadn't even been aware of her harsh breathing as every ounce of her concentration was on the woman writhing against her. She finally gave in to her impulses and used her hold in Sansa's hair to pull the girl's head back, not too gently either, forcing a heated gasp from the Stark girl. Abruptly Cersei became aware of Sansa's hands, the redhead was gripping her thighs so tightly that she feared the younger woman would mark herself. With her free hand Cersei took one of Sansa's hands in hers and slowly lead it up to her silk covered shoulder. She smirked at how hard Sansa dug her nails into her shoulders. She loved the thought of Sansa marking _her._ As Sansa's other hand came up to grip her other shoulder Cersei swiftly covered Sansa's mouth with her own once more, she slipped her tongue back inside the wet depths, stroking Sansa's tongue with her own until at last the younger girl tentatively tangled her tongue with her own. They both groaned loudly into each other's mouths.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this, wanted you?" Cersei whispered huskily as she used her free hand to caress Sansa's slender hip.

The younger woman shivered and leaned her head forward, demanding to be kissed, a demand that Cersei was all too happy to answer. For long minutes she kissed the younger woman all the while attempting to leash her pent up desire, but like a dam trying to hold back a violent current, it would inescapably break. Cersei tore her mouth away from Sansa, smiling at the disappointed sound that fell from the redhead's passion swollen lips. She felt Sansa thrust her hips upwards, towards her. She bit her lip and focused on trying to control the hot arousal burning insistently in the pit of her stomach, she was certain that Sansa was a virgin and the last thing she wanted was for the redhead's first experience to be rushed.

"Your Grace..." Sansa whined loudly, fighting through the haze of lust that had threatened to consume her. Cersei trailed her hand up from Sansa's hip, up to cup her oval shaped jaw. She smiled when the younger woman leaned into her touch. So willing.

"When we are alone, you will always refer to me by name" She commanded heatedly. Sansa nodded as best she could with The Queen Regent's strong hands holding her still.

"...Cersei...please" Sansa whispered. Cersei crooned to the younger girl before she reluctantly climbed to her feet. Sansa frowned in confusion before she offered the younger girl her hand.

"Shh little SheWolf, we have all night" Cersei whispered as Sansa gently took her outstretched hand.

She pulled the girl against her firmly. A hiss of pleasure escaped her lips as Sansa's breasts brushed against her own and their hips locked together. Cersei licked her lips briefly utterly consumed by the liquid heat pulsing through her veins, making her magnolia pale skin tingle with awareness of her intended lover. Her breasts were swollen and heavy, already she could feel the damp evidence of her arousal coating the swollen lips of her sex and the dull ache low in her stomach.

She took a deep calming breath, before she slowly urged Sansa to walk backwards towards her bed. Sansa fell helplessly onto the wealth of finely spun silken bedsheets as her knees connected with the edge of the Queen Regent's bed. Her lean muscles flexed as the Lannister Lioness effortlessly pounced on her willing prey. Cersei straddled Sansa's upper thighs and smirked down at the Stark girl. The redhead panted excitedly, her arms were spread out to the sides, a soft glint of purely virginal confusion glimmered in her pale wolf eyes. She remembered well that sensation and often inspired it in others, the seemingly overwhelming desire that continued to blaze brighter and brighter with each touch and lascivious promise from the more experienced partner in the intimate dance of flesh until the lust was all consuming, the lack of knowing how to gain a release so desperately needed and the frantic dependency on one's lover to lead them to the pinnacle of pleasure. So often a woman was left disappointed by her husband's fumbling attempts to give her satisfaction or selfish rutting. Sweet innocent Sansa would not have to endure such disappointment.

Slowly leaning down and with a feather-light caress, Cersei ran her fingers slowly along Sansa's toned arms until she could entwine their long fingers together tightly. She was nothing if not a thorough lover. Sansa was not the first virgin she had taken to her bed, the Northerner would likely not be her last, and she made a point of being particularly attentive to the maidens she expertly seduced and deflowered. Naturally, she was physically dominate and tirelessly demanding but she was not a self-seeking lover, she pleased them as they pleased her. She would take Sansa as many times as it required for her interest in the Stark girl to wane and then she would cast the redhead aside, as was her typical practice.

"Have you ever been with a woman before, Sansa?" Cersei asked gently as she flipped her long blonde hair to the side, the long tendrils fell over one shoulder like a wave spun gold. She didn't know why she was asking a question she already knew the answer to, maybe it was the possessive streak in her. When she claimed a mistress, they were hers until she grew tired of their flavour and she made the fact abundantly clear to them, every aspect of their life was her concern until it was not, when they became inconsequential, nothing more than a pleasant memory.

"No" Sansa admitted, breathless and blushing in the dim candlelight. Cersei squeezed Sansa's hands comfortingly, feeling something shift inside her chest as she stared down at the girl, she couldn't put a name to it and she wasn't entirely certain what to think of it. She smirked when she felt the redhead's lean hips cant up into the cradle of her body, dragging her attention back to the dull throbbing ache between her legs.

"Then you are mine, for now at least" Cersei declared with a soft sigh.

The war between the Lannisters and the Starks would soon travel down to the south, but for now, a Southern Lioness and a Northern SheWolf would be together. Sansa was the one to hesitantly lean up and seal their lips together once again. Cersei fiercely returned the other woman's kiss, knowing that at any moment she could be forced to relinquish her SheWolf.

**AN: Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading ;) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

"Mother!" Cersei smiled warmly as Joffrey hurried to join her in the vibrant gardens close to her quarters. The piercing blue of the sky overhead was so arresting and clear it seemed unreal, the bright noonday sun hovered above mother and son, making their blonde heads shine vivid golden, both of them were dressed in the newest fashions styled from the finest red silk.

"What is it, my love?" Cersei murmured as Joffrey sat down at the small polished table she had been frequenting for the past several hours, though she wouldn't remain outside for much longer, the sun's rays were slowly turning her alabaster skin a soft olive tone and only commoners allowed themselves to become sun-darkened as her father had always told her.

"Why is Tyrion here?" Joffrey demanded petulantly.

Cersei scowled inwardly as she remembered The Imp's dramatic entrance into the Small Council chambers the previous day. That disgusting little creature made her blood boil beneath the very surface of her skin. She would never understand why her Father had not simply walked the newborn murderer into the ocean at birth to drown for his heinous crime. If it weren't for Jaime's peculiar affection for Tyrion, she would personally gutted him like livestock and fed his corpse to the dogs in the kennels. She loved her twin as she loved her Lady Mother, unconditionally and wholeheartedly. Tyrion had taken her Mother from her, over thirty years on and the pain of that loss had never diminished. She wouldn't do anything to hurt Jaime.

"Your Grandfather has decided that Tyrion is to act as Hand of the King while the war progresses" Cersei informed Joffrey slowly, hating the taste of the words on her tongue. She watched Joffrey closely as she spoke, well aware of his unpredictable temper and it's brutal results that she was in no mood to spend hours containing, instead she attempted to prevent his volatile anger from spiking entirely. She was enjoying her peaceful respite, and she was not particularly interested in seeing it end until absolutely necessary.

"And he didn't think to ask my permission or opinion first. I am the King after all" Joffrey drove his clenched fist suddenly into the table top.

Cersei's jade coloured eyes flashed contempt at the action. How would Joffrey ever become an acceptable King if he did not learn the social chain of command?, Tywin Lannister was not a man to be questioned by anyone, not even her, if only Joffrey would abstain from his childish impulses long enough to learn that.

Contrary to her son's popular belief, people would not spontaneously show him respect and obey him just because of who his father had been and Robert Baratheon had been the Father of all three of her children despite the filthy rumours surrounding the subject of their legitimacy. The Queen Regent rolled her incisively intelligent eyes in disgust. The stupidity of people always failed to surprise her. The general populace of Westeros despised the House of Lannister because of their immense wealth, unmatched by any noble House even if their enemies were to combine their coffers, it was this hatred that prompted the despicable vultures plaguing her House to so readily believe that her children were the product of incest. Believing them capable of such high crimes justified their hatred, it made them feel morally superior when in actuality they were nothing more than envious beetles beneath her feet. Even her witless and deceased cousin, Orson Lannister, was worth a dozen commoners. Lannisters always held true to their own personal code of ethics, their way of life, the Head of their House enforced it.

"You must forgive him Joffrey, he is after all, on the front lines. Manners are in short supply in such times and places" Cersei confidently reached out and covered Joffrey's clenched fist on the circular table with the palm of her elegant hand, the gold square-faced signet ring encircling the long slender middle finger of her right hand gleamed blindingly in the sunlight bearing down on them. She sought to ease Joffrey's anger at her Lord Father. Though it shamed her to admit, her son _was_ indeed foolish enough to try and retaliate against Tywin Lannister for taking control of a situation away from him and her Father would not suffer such an insult. Even Lannisters were nothing more than tools to use and discard through the task of sculpting their immortal Legacy. She knew the fact well and she would not allow Joffrey's own haughtiness to recoil back on him. She was his mother.

"He'd better not do it again" Joffrey hissed after a brief silence. Cersei smiled when he looked at her for confirmation, her son enjoyed playing the all important and cruel sovereign but at heart he was still her little boy, searching for her when he was uncertain.

"I'm certain he won't" Cersei lied easily, convincingly and with a loving smile. He smiled gently in return, they were still a little at odds over the incident yesterday but Cersei had already put it behind her, from now on when dealing with Joffrey she would adopt a more controlled façade, though he wasn't completely blameless, she should never have raised her hand against him and would take steely precautions to ensure it didn't happen again.

"As for 'Uncle' Tyrion I would prefer if he kept his distance, he unnerves me at times" Joffrey turned his hand, palm upwards, so he could lace his fingers with his mother's slightly longer and slender digits.

"How so?" Cersei asked with a curious tilt of her head. Her silken blonde mane flashed in the striking sunlight as the long fall of her hair fell over her shoulders, the shorter tendrils framing her face were secured out of her eyes by diamond pins but the rest was left to cascade down her back down to her trim waist.

"It doesn't matter..." Joffrey shrugged carelessly "...Will you come and watch the games atop the ramparts with me?" He asked.

She cocked her head, examining him closely across the table like a circling hawk watching an oblivious rabbit from afar.

Cersei felt an unmistakeable flutter in her stomach at the prospect. She knew exactly who was waiting dutifully for her son on the walls, _Sansa. _It had been thirteen days since she had first taken the beautiful redhead to her bed, and she had kept the younger woman there for each night that had followed, each night her hungers had grown more intense, she couldn't seem to get enough of her little SheWolf, each taste demanded another, each lust filled gaze they shared during the day only added to the fires growing within them, and at the end of the pleasurable night, when dawn threatened, the loving caresses Cersei found herself carrying out instinctively only seemed to grow more natural and her chest always seemed to grow tight as she cradled her lover's spent body against her own.

"I would only ruin your fun Joffrey" Cersei spoke, her voice was thick with with emotion, the same emotions that gripped her whenever Sansa found herself possessing the Queen Regent's thoughts.

"Nonsense, besides I would like to have some actual opinions, not my own repeated" Joffrey leapt to his feet, keeping Cersei's hand trapped within his own, leaving the Queen Regent no choice but to rise to her feet, albeit with more dignity than her son.

"When have I ever been able to deny you anything for long?" Cersei smiled, Joffrey smirked with a predatory gait, Cersei resisted smirking in return, her son may think her wrapped around his little finger but she knew exactly how to manipulate him as well, it was the only kink in their relationship, they often pushed each other in the wrong direction.

"Tommen and Myrcella will be joining us as well" Joffrey informed her as they walked side-by-side towards the ramparts, Cersei tilted her head at her son slowly, would Sansa not be there as too, on one hand it would be best if her lover wasn't present, that way she would not be tempted to find a way to touch the redhead in a revealing way and she would actually be able to offer her son a honest opinion at the end of the games, if Sansa were there, her eyes would been permanently trained on her mesmerising SheWolf and she wouldn't be able to tear them away, she wouldn't _want _to and that would pose a danger for them both if Joffrey ever grew suspicious of them.

"It has been a while since I spent time with all three of you together, _alone" _Cersei cringed inwardly, as much as she didn't want Sansa to be present during the games, a larger, more dominant, part wanted to have her lover near her, close enough that she would be able to catch the light vanilla scent that always clung to Sansa's flawless skin, untainted by the overpowering perfumes that clung to the other women at the Red Keep and hovered around the halls like an unpleasant stench.

"My thoughts exactly, that is why I've posted guards on Sansa and locked her in her chambers for the day" Cersei almost tripped over her own feet, she masterfully regained her footing without any outward signs that her son's words had effected her, Joffrey's attention remained solely on the hall in front of them, she wasn't a fool, she knew that Joffrey would've found the most distasteful, horribly disrespectful, and intrusive guards he could find, Cersei's jaw clenched tightly with outrage, she suddenly felt an acidic twinge coil in the pits of her stomach, something akin to worry, of course the guards wouldn't dare hurt Sansa, at least she prayed they wouldn't, but physical abuse was often a lot kinder than mental or voiced revilement not to mention easier to deal with.

"You did tell them not to harass her I trust?" Cersei painted a careless smile on her face, though she felt distinctly light headed as some inner part of her screamed that with each step forward she took, it was one step further away from Sansa's chambers.

"Her father was a confessed traitor mother" Joffrey stressed as though it were the most important thing in the world, Cersei froze in the middle of the hall, Joffrey's hold on her forced him to stop also, he frowned at her as she glared venomously at her slightly taller son, her hand itched to be reconnected with his porcelain cheek in a stinging slap, but she managed to restrain herself, barely, though if anything had happened to her SheWolf she would find a way to ruin Joffrey, treasured eldest son or not.

"I've just remembered a pressing matter that needs my immediate attention" Cersei tore her hand out of Joffrey's, choosing to ignore indignant gasp that left Joffrey's perfectly sculpted lips at the force she used, she turned on her heel and hurried down the hall in the most lady like manner she could manage, she couldn't afford to let nosey prigs like Lord Baelish see her running through the halls of the Red Keep, but that knowledge didn't keep her heart from pounding wildly in her chest. She felt as though she were going to be forcibly sick when she _finally _appeared at the head of the hall leading to Sansa's chambers, Cersei skidded to a stop when she found none other than Sandor Clegane, standing tall in front of the doors leading to Sansa's room, on the floor writhing in pain was Sansa's original four guards.

"What is the meaning of-" Cersei began automatically.

"They were unjustly harassing Lady Stark, when I asked them to return to their designated posts they decided that they wanted to fight instead" Cersei's mouth snapped shut as a wave of gratefulness came over her, she nodded gently at the Hound, she wasn't entirely surprised, the hulking figure of a man had become secretively fond of Sansa during her time at King's Landing, he'd better keep his paws to himself though or she would see them cut off, Cersei shook her head slightly, where was all of this emotion coming from?, she was accustomed to feeling, nothing but, contempt and calculating at the best of times, but Sansa made her feel _alive._

"In future, if Sansa is to be contained inside her chambers you will watch over her personally, out here of course..." Cersei informed him slowly as she approached, the Hound nodded as he moved to the side, allowing her access to her lover's chamber, Cersei's hands were shaking as she gripped the door handles

"...Thank you Sandor" Cersei murmured, barely above a whisper, to the muscle bound man as she pushed the door open, the Queen Regent didn't see the look of surprise that crossed the Hound's scarred face at the use of his real name and not the nickname he was known by. Cersei found Sansa sat at a desk, the redhead's back was facing the Queen Regent as she entered the sunlit chamber, a shaky breath fell from Cersei's full lips, she actually felt her heart begin to beat faster as her eyes ran run and down Sansa's graceful form, her younger lover was writing something, judging from the way her shoulder was moving and her head was following the words she was scrawling across a page.

"What is wrong Sandor?" Sansa's voice was thick, as though she'd been crying, Cersei's fists clenched tightly, first because some bastard had caused her SheWolf to shed tears and second because her lover was on a first name basis with the Hound.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you, my dear" Cersei bit out, already murderous thoughts of burning the four guards laying outside the closed door alive came to life in her mind's eye.

"Your Grace?" Sansa was immediately on her feet, moving faster than Cersei had thought her lover capable of, the Queen Regent's blue eyes narrowed as Sansa swiftly covered the page she'd been writing on with other loose sheets, she dismissed the detail for now, instead she focused on the beautiful young woman standing nervously in front of her.

"We are alone are we not?" Cersei asked gently, scanning the chamber for some imaginary company that would have demanded Sansa use her title rather than her name.

"Forgive me...Cersei" The older woman's eyes fluttered closed as her lover's melodious voice sang out her name, it never failed to make her shiver, or tip her over the edge of sanity and into an abyss overflowing with ecstasy.

"Apparently it is I, who should be asking for forgiveness..." Cersei muttered bitterly, Sansa frowned gently in confusion as she stalked closer to her SheWolf

"...For leaving you in Joffrey's care" Cersei expanded, Sansa's blue-grey eyes were suddenly focused on the fur-covered floor, a nervous shameful gesture that Cersei despised with every fibre of her being.

"For the love of The Seven would you look at me?..." Cersei snapped harshly, Sansa was quick to obey her command, like she always did. Cersei finally stopped within a hairsbreadth of her lover, she felt overwhelmed with a storm of different emotions, outrage at Sansa's undeserved treatment, fiery rage at the guards who'd upset her, annoyance and frustration with Joffrey, her own son, confusion and something else, something that went deep inside of her and was stronger than anything else she'd ever experienced, for Sansa, the young woman standing before her, waiting for her to deliver instructions, like a doll

"...I won't let something like this happen again" Cersei whispered as her hand came up to cup Sansa's oval shaped jaw, seemingly of it's own accord, her thumb caressed the side of Sansa's beautiful face slowly, making Cersei's hand tingle with awareness.

"It is nothing Cersei" Sansa announced with a sad smile, Cersei's jaw clenched, she wasn't blind, she could see exactly how miserable her lover was, it was maddening, with all her power she couldn't instantly make Sansa's sorrow disperse.

"Did they touch you?" Cersei murmured, bracing herself for the worst outcome, she couldn't see any immediate harmful marks on her SheWolf's breath taking face, but that didn't mean anything and if she saw even one blemish on Sansa's flawless skin later during the night she would make a point to make the bastards responsible scream in agony.

"No" Sansa whispered, Cersei sighed gently, with her free hand she gripped Sansa's slender hip and pulled her lover closer to her, she dropped the hand cupping Sansa's face so she could wrap her arms around her lover comfortingly, Sansa quickly tucked her head under hers, Cersei tightened her arms around the younger woman as Sansa began nuzzling the soft skin of her neck.

"They better not" Cersei closed her eyes and simply enjoyed feeling Sansa filling her arms so perfectly, like two broken pieces of marble coming together to create something perfect, she tilted her head downwards to inhale Sansa's intoxicating scent, as the younger woman continued snuggling into her. Cersei lazily began drawing small circular patterns on Sansa's deceptively strong back, Sansa's breath hitched in her throat as Cersei's hands dipped dangerously close to the redhead's firm backside, the Queen Regent was quick to bring her elegant hands back up to the small of her lover's back, for now she just wanted to hold her SheWolf close, nothing else in the world held more importance to her nor would it ever. Cersei scowled when there was an abrupt knock on the door, three sharp bursts that sounded as though someone were driving a wooden beam into the entrance.

"What!" Cersei growled, in a tone that would've made even Gregor Clegane blanch in terror, feeling Sansa tense in her embrace Cersei quickly pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, she smiled when her lover sighed in response.

"The Hand was just looking for you, your grace" The Hound's deep voice rumbled through the thick carved oak door, Cersei blue eyes flashed perilously, she loved the feel of her SheWolf pressed against her, for once fully clothed, and now she would be forced to leave Sansa's presence just to discover what Tyrion wanted, infuriating imp.

"Join me for dinner?" Cersei swiftly requested of Sansa, they both knew that the redhead couldn't actually refuse, but given the circumstances Cersei wanted to, at least, give her lover the illusion of an option.

"I look forward to it" Sansa replied dutifully as she drew back from her lover, once again with a sad smile, Cersei suddenly found herself thinking of ways to coax a genuinely content smile from the younger woman, it would be difficult of course, for she had been the source for a lot of Sansa's pain, but that simple fact only made her resolve burn brighter, she would right her mistakes where her SheWolf was concerned as best she could at least, she could never give back what she had taken directly or indirectly, and in some cases, like becoming the redhead's first, and only if she had her way, lover, she didn't regret a thing.

"I will make you smile again my little SheWolf" Cersei promised as she cupped Sansa's delicate jaw, and pulled her lover in for a searingly possessive kiss that had them both trembling in a matter of glorious seconds, passion rose like a phoenix from the ashes, extremely potent and all consuming. It was only when the Hound's heavy fist reconnected with the door that Cersei found herself able to draw back, breathing heavily in unison with her lover, Cersei couldn't prevent herself from pressing a lighter, tender kiss to Sansa's rosebud coloured mouth, she shivered at the desperate whimper she heard fall from from her younger lover.

"I want you in my colours tonight" Cersei whispered breathlessly, she waited until Sansa nodded her response before turning on her heel and stalking toward the door, Sandor pushed it open when she was three paces away from the polished oak, she frowned gently, if he had been able to hear her approaching through a thick, solid door, what else had he heard?. Cersei met the Hound's eyes as she passed him, the hulking man gave no indication that he had heard anything regarding the Queen Regent's relationship with the elder Stark girl, but that didn't stop Cersei from convey a silent message with her cold eyes, the Hound was quick to lower his head, a message of his own that brought a grateful smile to her lips before she could crush it.

"Before dinner I want you to procure me..." Cersei's melodious voice dropped below a whisper as she finished, but from the smile that crossed the Hound's face anyone would've thought the Queen Regent had just ordered the execution of his only and much hated sibling.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, after discovering her brother had only wanted to discuss the disgusting rumours circulating her and her twin Jamie, like a vultures around a corpse, Cersei was sat in her chambers, at the head of a long table that would seat nine people at a push, though only two places had been set with cutlery and other such things, it was considerably later in the day than she'd originally planned to dine with her lover, but for once she wouldn't complain, it had allowed the Hound to obtain her desired gift intended for Sansa, she only hoped it was well received, fully aware that it could potentially earn her the wrong response which would be disastrous at the very best.<p>

"The Lady Sansa Stark, Your Grace" Cersei was jerked out of her musings when her lover's arrival was announced in the clear cut voice of her guard, Cersei's chest tightened, her eyes widened, her palms began to sweat and her body began thrumming as Sansa nervously entered her chambers, dressed in a Lannister red dress as the Queen Regent had asked of the redhead earlier that same day, and it suited the younger woman perfectly, it moulded to her stunning form like a glove, leaving her slender shoulders bare, displaying a modest amount of cleavage and a long slit up the right side left, partially revealed Sansa's long legs, Cersei's breath left her lips on a wheeze.

"Leave us, and if The Hand comes looking for me, I am not to be disturbed..." Cersei informed the tall guard holding the door open for Sansa, the commanding glare she shot him was threatening enough that he nodded his understanding and fled the chamber as though he had a lion prowling after him with it's sharp teeth bared

"...My colours suit you, like I knew they would" Cersei murmured with a smile as she gestured for Sansa to take the seat at her right, she mentally kicked herself as her lover took the desired position, maybe she should have pulled the chair out for the redhead, Cersei rolled her eyes at herself slowly, of all the lover's she'd taken she'd never felt such impulses for them, physical responses and wants, yes, but a need to ensure they were comfortable, that they felt safe and happy, definitely not.

"Thank you" Sansa blushed, Cersei felt a distinct thrill at the reaction she gained, days ago she wouldn't have been gifted with such a response.

"I don't suppose you would considered wearing them permanently?" Cersei mused aloud, Sansa really did look absolutely breath taking in Lannister red, it complimented her colouring much better than the dark colours most Starks were constantly adorned in.

"If you would like" Sansa was quick to reply, she looked as though she wanted to look at the ground, but she refrained from doing so Cersei was pleased to note.

"I believe I asked _you _if _you _would wear them, I find you look beautiful in anything...or nothing..." Cersei smirked as there was a knock on the door, a second before they opened to reveal Cersei's personal cooks carrying trays with the first course of their late dinner and whatever wine accompanied the tone of the dish, Cersei dismissed the newcomers the instant they were done preforming their tasks

"...That was inappropriate, I will refrain from making such remarks until later" Cersei decided as she reached for her spoon, she was hardly aware of the scintillating aroma of the food in front of her.

"Later?" Sansa whispered huskily.

"After dinner I have a gift for you and then judging on your reaction we will retire to bed" Cersei informed her lover as they began to eat, what turned out to be a thick, slightly spicy soup.

"My reaction?" Sansa murmured curiously.

"Indeed, how do you like your food?" Cersei murmured, directing their conversation away from the gift she had arranged Sandor to collect, it didn't bare thinking about how much it had cost, money wasn't an issue, she would happily spend all of her inheritance of the younger woman sat next to her, her throat ran dry at the realisation, Cersei reached over for her wine goblet and took a healthy sip.

"I still haven't grown acquainted to Southern food" Sansa said gently, there would be a lot of time for the redhead to develop a fondness for local cuisine, but she refrained from voicing that point, she wanted to block out the outside world, for tonight or however long she could manage.

"But you like it?" Cersei pressed, already plotting on how she was going to unearth Sansa's favourite things, whether it was related to culture, the arts, history, anything and everything.

"I do" Sansa admitted, Cersei smiled and for the next several minutes they enjoyed their food and a comfortable silence, they occasionally made small talk as the courses progressed, but Cersei's ability to hold a conversation was rapidly depleting as the time passed, the Hound would soon be knocking on the chamber door, with Sansa's gift held carefully in his large hands. As though summoned by her thoughts, there was a loud thud on the door, along with a soft fumbling sound.

"That will be your gift" Cersei announced as she pushed her chair out from under the table and stalked over to the door, she took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

"Your grace" Sandor greeted, Cersei tilted her head in acknowledgement as she gestured for him to enter her chambers, in his hands, there was a moderately sized box with half-inch gaps in the sides.

"You had no trouble with it, I trust?" Cersei murmured as she directed the Hound over to the table, she flashed Sansa a slow smile as Sandor carefully placed the box on the table, now cleared of plates and cutlery, the redhead was eyeing the box cautiously, as though she expected a snake to spring out of it at any moment.

"None your grace" The Hound reported, from inside his jerkin he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, Cersei took it quickly and tucked it inside her red skirts, she would deal with the bill later.

"An impressive feat to find one so far from the North" Cersei said, praising and dismissing the large man in her own way, he nodded slowly before departing from the chamber. Cersei cleared her throat uncertainly as she focused on her lover, Sansa looked thoroughly bewildered by the box, sitting on the table.

"What is it?" Sansa finally asked, Cersei bit her lip before she held her hand out for the redhead to take, she smiled when Sansa slipped her warm palm into her own and stood up to join the Queen Regent in front of the box.

"Hopefully not one of my errors where you're concerned..." Cersei muttered uncomfortably, she wasn't used to feeling this degree of precariousness, it made her want to leave the chamber while Sansa uncovered the gift within the box, but she wouldn't do that, she was a lioness, she didn't run from anything

"...Open it" Cersei whispered, Sansa stood looking at her inquisitively for a moment before she slipped between the Queen Regent and the table, Cersei wrapped her arms around her lover as Sansa's pale hands gripped the firmly closed lid, Cersei closed her eyes and rested her head on Sansa's warm shoulder, left bare by the dress she wore, it was so tempting to press tiny kissed to the alabaster skin, but she forced herself to wait.

"Oh my..." Sansa breathed as she unveiled the gift within the straw filled box, there sitting back on her lithe haunches was a pristine white and grey female wolf looking up at them with her head tilted to the side inquisitively, Cersei bit her bit as the pup began whining gently at her new mistress, she hoped Sansa liked her new companion.

"Do you like her?" Cersei winced inwardly, maybe she shouldn't have, not after the incident with Lady, but she wanted Sansa to have a friend and none of the young women around the Red Keep were interested in being seen with a traitor's daughter, besides she wasn't entirely certain she wanted _her_ SheWolf anywhere near another woman, Joffrey, she couldn't argue with, he was after all the king, but it didn't mean she had to like it either way.

"She is gorgeous" Sansa declared, her voice was filled with wonder, Cersei released a breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding, a pleased smile crossed her face as Sansa tentatively allowed the young wolf to sniff her hand, she tensed slightly, ready to jerk her lover away from the tiny animal if the wolf decided to flash her teeth.

"She will compliment you brilliantly then" Cersei murmured quietly, she wasn't even aware of when she began to nuzzle Sansa's soft skin, she was too focused on watching the sight before her. The tiny wolf had finished scenting her new mistress and was now enjoying Sansa's obviously skilled ministrations being directed at the wolf's small pointed ear.

"You'll have to forgive me, I don't quite know how old she is" Cersei whispered in way of an apology.

"At least twelve weeks, I remember when Lady was this size" Sansa said gently as she continued stroking her new companion, Cersei masterfully hid her guilty wince, if only she could go back in time so she could change things, but she couldn't.

"I know she will not replace Lady and that was not my intention, but I thought you could use a friend, supposedly domesticated wolves can be very loyal" Not that she knew must about the species, having grown up at Casterly Rock the only thing she'd come into close contact with when she was a child were nuggets of pure gold and the Southern sea, maybe Sansa would care to educate her about the potentially lethal animals that the redhead seemed to value greatly.

"But what about...Joffrey?" Sansa seemed to choke on his name, Cersei soothed her lover by drawing soft circular patterns on her silk covered stomach while Sansa continued petting her new friend.

"Don't worry about Joffrey, I will deal with the impending tantrum" Cersei drawled with an exasperated roll of her blue eyes, she smiled lovingly when she heard Sansa barely conceal a melodious laugh that would have silenced singing bird and inspired a great amount of envy.

"Thank you Cersei" Sansa whispered with a sweet smile, Cersei was forced to lift her head as her lover tilted her head to look back at her, there was a new lively twinkle simmering in Sansa's blue-grey eyes, one that Cersei would cherish and protect from the hard days to come.

"You're welcome..." Cersei moved forward slowly, she brushed her lips against her lover's tenderly in a gentle kiss before she drew back ever so slightly

"...We should find her something to eat I think" Cersei murmured softly, letting her gaze travel down to the small pup, sitting still in her box and looking up at them with her ears perked up.

"Wolves this age occasionally still nurse from their mothers at times but they eat mostly meat" Sansa took a while to say, momentarily distracted by the beauty of the Queen Regent, she looked back down at the little wolf somewhat reluctantly.

"I suspected as much" Cersei nodded, in fact she had already had her cooks prepare a small bowel of cubed steak for the pup, and it was due to arrive any moment. Sansa was idly stroking the wolf's wedge shaped head with her elegant hand as Cersei nuzzled her lover's neck adoringly.

"I told you I'd make you smile again" Cersei mused with a triumphant smile of her own, indeed for as long as she could Cersei would spend her days making Sansa smile happily and her nights coaxing screams of pleasure from her SheWolf.

**TBC. . .**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Game of thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.

**AN: I apologise about the wait, but over the past couple weeks I have been just a '_little' _bit busy, but you guys don't wanna hear about that. Before we move onto Chapter Three I just wanna thank everyone for reading and especially for the reviews/favourites/alerts, they were both helpful and encouraging so thanks. Okay here is Chapter Three I hope everyone enjoys it ;D**

**Chapter Three.**

"Are you aware of the crimes you're being accused of?" Cersei drawled, her upper lip curved into a disgusted snarl as she scrutinised the peasant kneeling on the floor of her chamber. The man was dressed in mud coated rags, the over powering odour wafting up from the thin dark-haired man was enough that Cersei had been forced to have her personal servants to light sticks of lavender and chamomile incense, positioned all around the Queen Regent's chambers in an attempt at hiding the vile smell. They were doing a poor job, everyone inside the chamber was breathing through their mouth, excluding the Hound, oddly enough.

"Treason wasn't it?" The disloyal herald made the mistake of lifting his head, Cersei felt as though she had thousands of tiny ants crawling across her pale skin as she stared at the grinning man, the rot and grim that covered the man's unimpressive body had spread to his teeth. Cersei's bright blue eyes blazed with rage, even as one of her gold-amour plated guards moved forward to backhand the peasant, Cersei smirked slowly as she glimpsed a small spray of blood fly through the air and paint the red tiles covering the chamber floor. She already knew she was going to order her maids to scrub her entire chamber top-to-bottom, if only the memory of the vulgar creature twelve feet away from her polished oak desk would be washed away with such ease.

"You seem awfully proud of your actions" Cersei hissed as she leaned back in her chair, gesturing with a flick of her hand another of her guards moved forward holding an official document, the herald's death warrant. She snatched the square piece of paper out of the guard's black-gloved palm and placed it flat on her desk in front of her, she could tell that it had only recently been drawn up, the smell of fresh ink masked the prisoner's revolting smell far better than the incense. Cersei cast one last calculating glance at the piece of filth, holding his grimy hand to his swollen lip, the muddy brown eyes staring back at her gleamed with satisfaction.

"The 'King' is rotten fruit, born out of incest. Killing me will only convince people of the truth" He shrugged. Cersei eyes flashed, darkening to the point that they resembled a storm cloud and her hands clenched into tight fists on the table top. She was well aware of the poison being spread by Rob Stark and Stannis Baratheon regarding her children's parentage, but she hadn't known that these shameful lies were rife in King's Landing. Gods, how did she stop it?, she couldn't punish everyone for being easily manipulated and ignorant, not that she wouldn't like to.

"Now listen very carefully you naïve fool." Cersei's cold tone would've cut through stone like a hot knife through butter, she smirked as every man in the room shivered, with exception of the Hound, who seemed to enjoy her show of icy command judging from the amused twinkle in his eyes.

"The Iron throne is Joffrey's birth right, Robert Baratheon _was_ the father of all three of my children and anyone who says otherwise will answer to me personally...starting with your family" Cersei hissed venomously, she grinned slowly as panic leaked into the herald's dirty brown eyes, he sputtered helplessly and struggled to get to his feet as Cersei gestured for her guards to return him back to the dark cells, utterly devoid of any light, the same cells Lord Eddard Stark was contained inside weeks ago.

"Don't worry, I'll take very good care of them" Cersei drawled as two bulky soldiers gripped the herald by his skinny arms and began dragging him out of her chamber, leaving a trail of muck in his wake, the man clearly lacked the initiative to bathe upon occasion.

"Please!, they had nothing to do with it, Your Grace please!" The man screamed loudly, struggling against his captors with little effect, Cersei raised her elegant hand and waved at him mockingly before the door to her chamber was slammed shut, the silence that followed was the same heavy fog that accompanied a battlefield once all the death and destruction had been wrought. Cersei reached out slowly for the quill leaning against the rim of her ink well, pulling the thin spine out of the small bottle, she pulled the red sleeve of her dress out of the way as she rested her arm on the table and signed the Herald's death warrant with a flourish and a small smile of satisfaction. A traitor was a traitor.

"You're all dismissed" Cersei replaced the quill inside the ink well, lifting the document she blew slowly on her signature, assisting the ink in it's drying process. The shuffling sounds of armour filled the chamber as each of her guards filed out of the room, to stand as sentry's outside her door, the Hound stayed where he was, standing tall behind her to the right.

"I have a task for you Sandor" Cersei didn't glance over her shoulder as she spoke to the muscular man.

"How may I serve Your Grace?" The Hound rumbled, Cersei glanced down at her hands for a moment, the slender fingers of her left hand were toying with the signet ring adorning the middle finger of her right hand. The quarter-inch thick gold band held the visage of the Lannister sigil, the exquisite workmanship was the envy of all who had the pleasure of looking upon it, but it held more sentimental value to her than anyone would ever know, save for father and Jamie. The ring had been a gift from her mother, along with the pendant that always graced the slender column of her neck night and day, the last gift from her mother. Cersei's chest seized with pain and her eyes cleared of their murderous rage, instead they gleamed brightly with unshed tears. A day didn't go by that she didn't long for her mother, at times she envisioned what she would be like had her mother survived giving life to the imp, she suspected she wouldn't be nearly as cold and calculating, traits installed into her by her father's detachment, she'd learned long ago that if she wanted her father's affections then she had to earn them, by obliterating her ties to everything that could be used against her. No matter how adapt she became at the art however her father always found something to keep her at arms length.

"Tell Sansa I will join her in gardens later and we will be taking lunch with Tommen and Myrcella" Cersei muttered distractedly. The Hound tilted his head, the large pink scar that covered half his face stood out starkly in the early morning sunlight pouring in through the windows behind them.

"Furthermore I want you to find out whatever you can about that Herald, his associates, next of kin and such, focus upon his contacts among the other heralds, if they are sprouting the same nonsense as that parasite they should be silenced with whatever means are necessary" Cersei brushed her thumb over the face of her ring, the document in front of her required the wax impression of the signet before the deed could be carried out. Cersei clenched her jaw tightly as she continued toying with her ring, frustration built inside of her, becoming a solid lump in her throat, she should just finish the task in front of her. The man was a traitor, he had the nerve to suggest that she had been physically intimate with her twin, in the city where she reigned as Regent until her son came of age. Death was the only appropriate punishment for such an insult.

"Would you like me to take the warrant to the head jailer your Grace?" Sandor murmured quietly, wisely keeping his head down as the words fell from his mouth cautiously, Cersei cursed under her breath as she rose up to her feet, she knew why she couldn't bring herself to complete her task. She saw fatherless children and a grieving widow, a family torn apart like the Stark's.

"If you should find other traitors, I want you to take their heads and mount them along the walls for all to see that treason will not be tolerated" Cersei ordered, running her hands over her red dress, tightening the strings of the corset, smoothing the folds of the skirts. It was an redundant action. Everything about her outward appearance was as it always was, perfection, to those around her she was just as untouchable and merciless as she always had been. Inside she felt incredibly disturbed that she was actually concerned about the Herald's family.

"Permission to speak freely your grace?" The Hound asked with some hesitance, he was well aware of what she did to those who questioned her, he'd seen the gruesome results and carried out the vast majority of the deeds himself. Cersei walked around her chair to glance out of the window, overlooking the lush green gardens, with an abundance of colourful flowers and tall tress, directly under her window, sat at a small circular table was Sansa. A small smile spread across Cersei full lips, her lover was so much more at ease since she had made a gift of the small white and grey wolf three days ago, playing a few feet away from her mistress, chasing butterfly's around the garden but she was never quite fast enough to catch them.

"Granted" Cersei whispered, her voice took on a husky tone as she traced the outline of Sansa's body, the redhead was dressed in Lannister red, her long hair was left to flow around her beautiful face, made more stunning by her bright smile. The Queen Regent had kept her promise, she did everything possible to earn a smile from Sansa each day and her tactics had proved more than successful but however much she saw genuine happiness shinning in her younger lover's blue-grey eyes, she always craved more.

"It would be best to make an example of that Herald sooner rather than later." Sandor stated in his deep baritone. Cersei wasn't truly listening, she was more focused on watching Sansa as her younger lover left the table out in the gardens and drew closer to Duchess, Cersei smirked as she glimpsed the small wolf abandon her hunt for butterfly's and turn her attention on her mistress, the pup adopted a playful stance before she barrelled forward and launched herself into Sansa's waiting arms. Cersei could hear Sansa's melodious laugh even from where she stood, overlooking the two from above, a fluttery sensation blossomed in her stomach as Sansa turned with the young wolf clasped safely in her arms, she loved the transformation that had occurred in her lover over the past three weeks, the knowledge that she had played a part in it brought her more joy and blissful contentment than would ever be safe to admit aloud.

"I know Sandor" Cersei said quietly as she attempted to memorise the unique sight in the gardens, she still couldn't put a name to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her whenever she thought of her lover, but she was no longer cautious of them, rather she had learned to accept that these were feelings that she only felt for Sansa.

"He will be put to death at the end of the day" Cersei swallowed hard as she forced herself to tear her eyes away from her grinning lover and her loyal companion, it was indescribably more challenging than it ought to be, Cersei smiled as she turned away from the window, feeling infinitely better than she had just moments ago, she couldn't bring herself to care that the Hound was looking at her closely, perfectly well aware of who she'd been staring at.

"Come and find me when you have something to report" Cersei instructed the bulky man, the smile left her lips, the warmth fled her blue eyes leaving her to appear every inch the remorseless Queen.

* * *

><p>The various political and domestic matters that demanded her personal attention in the council meetings leading up her lunch with her lover and her youngest children proved to be more than a little complicated, taking her hours to devise an effective solution to them all, however they would only neutralise the individual problems in the short term. But it would do for the foreseeable.<p>

"My big sister, the skilful politician. Father really did teach you well didn't he?" Tyrion mused as the other members of the small council filed out of the scarcely furnished chamber, Cersei resisted the urge to follow them out of the chamber immediately, she could tell from the position of the sun shinning brightly through the open balcony doors to the right that it was some time after mid-day. She hated to disappoint her lover and her youngest children, but it she ran to them now, it would only arouse her brother's curiosity and she couldn't risk him discovering her relationship with Sansa, the results didn't bare entertaining, she stifled a shiver of what felt like fear. She cast Tyrion a cool scowl as she reached out for her cup filled with water, she followed her father's footing when it came to meetings, she didn't touch a drop of wine, unlike the imp beside her greedily downing cup after cup of of the finest Dornish wine.

"Forgive me, did you not understand what was said?. Would you like for me to arrange a tutor?, perhaps someone who truly grasps the complexities of governing a Kingdom gripped in civil war" Cersei drawled as she took a dainty sip of water, her fingers were digging into the sides of her cup tightly, enough to hurt, she wasn't in the mood for a sparring match of words with the imp, they always ended in stalemate and she would much rather be with Sansa and her children, she replaced the cup on top of the table and forced herself to smirk mockingly at her brother, glaring up at her indignantly.

"I'm perfectly well aware of how difficult things have been as of late. Besides I think you are doing an admirable job of ruling sister, there is just the small matter of no one likes your son" Tyrion stated bluntly, as was his way, the scent of alcohol was strong on his breath but she didn't believe for a second he was drunk. Her blue eyes narrowed dangerously on the dwarf pouring himself yet another cup of wine.

"You do remember the whore incident correct?, if you would stop seeking to control him, then he wouldn't feel so isolated and he wouldn't lash out at everyone" She bit out angrily, she believed the words passing her lips to an extent, she had to, Joffrey was her son, his recently uncalled-for vicious acts were a phase, one she hoped to nip in the bud. For if Joffrey continued on like this then he might as well be handing Westeros over to the Stannis Baratheon and Rob Stark, Cersei rolled her shoulders in hopes to relieve some of the tension gathering in her lithe muscles.

"The boy isn't isolated!, he has everything he needs and whatever he wants you give to him so quick one would think your life depended on it!" Tyrion growled, taking a healthy sip of his wine, it was miraculous that his speech wasn't slurred.

"He is the King" Cersei said gently, she knew her brother's words were true, Joffrey was spoiled to the point of excess, and it was partly her fault, she had indulged her eldest son and now he was taking things too far. But she had so many things to worry about, too many things.

"Exactly, he should be setting an example for the people, show himself to be a true and just King like we know he can be" Tyrion continued as Cersei raised her elegant palm to pinch the bridge of her delicate nose between her thumb and forefinger, the pressure building in her temples was becoming uncomfortable.

"I will talk to him, again" Cersei murmured, wincing as her head began to pound furiously, she closed her eyes against the harsh light filling the chamber and focused on taking deep breaths.

"'Again'?, what happened?" Tyrion murmured, she flinched when she felt his small palm landed on her free hand, draped over the arm of her chair while she continued her attempt at warding off a headache with the other. She hated it when people touched her, with the exclusion of her children and Sansa, she truly detested it when anyone, even her own family grazed against her without permission. Tyrion withdrew his hand and finished off his wine in a long, single swig.

"It is not of your concern..." Cersei spat, moving her hand away from her face, she cast Tyrion a dismissive glance as she rose up onto her feet, the pressure mounting in her temples threatened to make her unbalanced, she closed her eyes once more, hoping to dispel the painful haze.

"...I will talk to Joffrey, you and your mercenary stay as far away from him as the Keep allows, do you understand?" She turned to glare darkly down at him, he raised his palms in derisive compliance. He wouldn't, she knew it as well as she knew the sun would set later in the day, Tyrion simply couldn't stand not being in the know, and that was why she had to be very cautious, not for her sake, everyone at King's Landing already thought her an incestuous whore with three illegitimate children, but she would not allow a single soul to speak out against Sansa, the redhead had done nothing to deserve the unjust treatment directed at her from near enough everyone. Cersei would put an end to it soon enough, she already had a arrangement scurrying into place, of course it had taken her considerable skills of manipulation.

"Certainly sister, I wouldn't want to end up like the whore now would I?" Tyrion jeered, she forced a careless laugh as she walked around the long, rectangular table. She felt exceedingly light-headed as she moved but she pushed past it, she just needed some fresh air.

"No one would pay for you Tyrion, after all what do you do, except play at being wanted." Cersei felt a twinge in her chest, something like guilt as the offensive words sprang out of her mouth. She raised her head as she walked down the chamber, the guards standing just inside the room opened the set of double doors on her approach and lowered their heads respectfully, she didn't understand why she would feel guilty over insulting her brother, it was what they did, affront each other. She shook her head slowly as she walked out into the hall, eight guards quickly flanked her protectively, it wasn't relevant, what mattered to her, was the three people waiting for her in the gardens.

* * *

><p>"Mother!" Cersei gestured for her eight guards to take up positions around the gardens as Tommen and Myrcella jumped up from the circular table they'd been seated at with Sansa and ran over to her, she smiled lovingly as the two smaller blondes threw their little arms around her slender waist and instantly began chattering about their afternoon with Sansa.<p>

"...Sansa helped us draw Duchess!" Myrcella declared excitedly as Cersei ushered her younger children back over to the table, Cersei shared a secret smile with her lover before she sat down beside the redhead.

"Where is Duchess?" Cersei murmured to Sansa as Myrcella and Tommen gathered up their numerous drawings and shoved them into her hands. It had taken long and gruelling hours to soothe Joffrey's petty anger after he'd discovered the small SheWolf that was never far from her mistress's side.

"Over there..." Cersei followed Sansa's outpointed hand to find Duchess looking up at one of the taller trees in the gardens, the pup looked as though she wanted to climb the thick trunk.

"What is she doing?" Cersei asked as she looked through the collection of drawings her children had produced, she smiled at their attempts at capturing the likeness of the small wolf, she could clearly see where Sansa had guided their hands, some of the details were surprisingly detailed.

"She made friends with a squirrel" Sansa smiled fondly, Cersei glanced up from the drawings, she ran her tired blue eyes over the tree until she found a red squirrel, perched on a branch, peaking down at Duchess with wide eyes.

"Indeed..." She resisted pointing out that Duchess probably wanted to eat the little red creature teasing her up in the tree.

"Well it seems that I have two budding artists. They are beautiful my darlings" Cersei smiled brightly passing the pieces of paper back to Tommen and Myrcella, they grinned back at her before they returned to improving the sketches. Cersei traced their perfect features adoringly, they shared her colouring and one could easily see that they were her children, but she still didn't see how people could think her capable of having an affair with her _brother. _With the exception of her lovers, Robert and Jamie were the only two people in the world who knew of her sexual preferences towards her own gender, her late husband had been shocked at first, but he had given her leave to her occasional dalliances and she hadn't been affected by his. It had been a marriage of convenience to begin with, but she had considered Robert her friend towards the end.

"Your Grace..." Cersei jerked slightly when she heard Sansa calling to her, she glanced at the younger woman, the concerned glimmer in her lover's blue-grey eyes made her chest tighten to the point where breathing became difficult.

"I'm fine..." Cersei shook herself and and smiled reassuringly at Sansa who seemed less than convinced "...Would you two like to clear the table please?" She spoke gently to her children, they were quick to gather up their drawings and pieces of charcoal, Cersei held out her hands for the small bundles, once they were in her possession she clicked her fingers, gesturing for one of her handmaidens standing on the edge of the garden to collect them.

"It seems your creative talents extend beyond dress making little SheWolf" Cersei complimented her lover gently, not that Tommen or Myrcella were listening to them, the little blondes were more focused on the various dishes being carried over to the table by various servants.

"Thank you Your Grace" Sansa smiled, blushing pronouncedly, Cersei bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning in response. There were spies all over the palace, she knew who they were and who they belonged to, there were at least five or six lingering in the gardens, their beady eyes were focused on her, looking for something to report back to their masters about.

"You're welcome Sansa" Cersei murmured leaning back in her chair as the servants placed assorted plates on the rounded table.

"Why isn't Joffrey eating with us?" Myrcella asked loudly as she reached towards the fruit, picking out a handful of fresh strawberries.

"Your brother is watching the games" Cersei answered as she deliberately placed an empty bowel in front of her eight year old daughter with a pointed look, Myrcella smiled innocently before she dropped the strawberries into the bowel.

"But we're not allowed to watch them" Cersei tilted her head at her daughter's persistence, she was much more outgoing than Tommen, her youngest son was sharing quiet conversation with Sansa.

"In a few years, I will let you watch them from dawn until dusk, but until then you will continue with your embroidering and such" Cersei said sternly, Myrcella sighed melodramatically.

"I hate embroidering" The younger blonde muttered taking a pitiful bite of the large strawberry she'd picked up, Cersei tried to stop a loving smile from gracing her lips but she failed spectacularly, as a child she had gone out of her way to avoid such tasks, just like Myrcella, it was hypocritical if her to expect her daughter to enjoy the project.

"But you can do so much with it" Sansa said gently, Cersei glanced over to her lover, a surprised gleam shone in the Queen Regent's azure blue eyes. Cersei nodded her hesitant agreement when Myrcella's eyes, identical to her own, looked to her for confirmation.

"I would much rather go riding like we used to" Myrcella sighed once more.

"It wouldn't be safe outside the walls, not just yet anyway" Cersei said, reaching over to place her hand on her daughter's shoulder, a soft glance told the younger blonde to cease her continuity.

"Can I have a wolf like Sansa's?" Myrcella blurted out with a nervy smile, Cersei chuckled lightly, the previous tension constricting her temples was slowly dispersing in the face of her beloved companions.

"Wouldn't you rather have a cat?" She countered her daughter's query, Tommen nodded his agreement as he picked at some fruit, not native to Westeros.

"I'd love to have a cat, a white one" Tommen said, barely above a whisper, as was his way.

"I'm certain that could be arranged darling. Myrcella?..." Cersei arched a delicate golden eyebrow at her daughter.

"Can I have a lioness?" Myrcella countered after a moment's thought, Sansa and Tommen snickered together, Cersei was blissfully distracted by the sound and sight of her lover and her shy son bonding.

"...You are fierce enough without a lioness at your side, little one" Cersei smiled, Myrcella beamed mirthfully at the compliment from her mother.

"I suppose, can I have a cat that is the same colour as a lioness?" Myrcella inquired with a impish smile.

"I will not rest until you have one" Cersei promised, she had a fair idea where she might find a cat with a creamy, golden brown pelt, of course she would send the Hound to collect it, it wasn't safe for any of her family to step foot outside the Red Keep and it wouldn't be until the war was ended and Joffrey was accepted as the rightful king.

"Can we play catch the fox?" Myrcella requested eagerly, Cersei reached out blindly for a piece of fruit herself, her hand landed on a nectarine cut in half with the single large seed removed from it's centre.

"Why don't we finish eating first?" Cersei suggested, taking a small bite of her sweet fruit, she could see Myrcella begin to protest as she chewed the ripe nectarine slowly.

"I've got a better idea" Sansa interjected before Myrcella could breath a word, Cersei was silently grateful for the intrusion, while she loved her daughter dearly, as she did all of her children, Myrcella could be more than just a handful at times.

"Mmm?" Myrcella murmured, her lively blue eyes were latched onto Sansa like a flower searching for the sun. Cersei narrowed her eyes with mock suspicion when Sansa glanced at her for permission to continue, she crossed her arms over the red bodice of her dress before smirking in way that dared the redhead to finish her proposition to the boisterous princess hanging off the edge of her seat.

"Back home we used to play hide and go seek...with our direwolves" Sansa revealed after sharing a discreet smile with the Queen Regent, Myrcella wore an awed expression and Tommen seemed just as interested in the idea, Cersei leaned back in her chair and indulged in the sound of Sansa's voice, her young lover no longer held the mechanical quality to her tone and actions, she liked the thought that Sansa may be more than just content at King's Landing, maybe her lover was even starting to enjoy her time there.

"Duchess is a far too young to track you over long distances but if you stay in the gardens then she'll play with both of you" Sansa smiled brightly at the expressions on the royal children's faces. Cersei glanced back over at the tree Duchess had been sitting beneath, the pup had given up on the squirrel and instead she was back to chasing butterfly's through the flowerbeds.

"Can we mother?" Cersei glanced away from Duchess, the pup was failing miserably at catching her prey much to the amusement of the Queen Regent. Tommen and Myrcella both wore pleading pouts, defeat was inevitable under the looks she was receiving, she had no idea where they'd learned to manipulate her but she prayed no one else learned how to do it.

"Eat your food, I'll not have either of you running around with an empty stomach" Cersei instructed with a subjugated sigh.

* * *

><p>"They are very enamoured with her and you" Cersei murmured softly, still picking at the food laid out in front of her on the circular table, Sansa was leaning back in her chair, somehow ensuring that her posture remained perfect while seeming completely at ease, if pleased her to no end that the redhead had finally learned to relax in her intimidating presence. Tommen and Myrcella were running around the gardens, endeavouring to conceal themselves from Duchess, the small white and grey wolf was managing to find the two wherever they hid, Cersei smiled slowly, her children would stand a better chance if they didn't hide in the same place but she loved seeing them laughing and playing together so she kept her opinion to herself as she watched over them closely.<p>

"I enjoyed spending the afternoon with them" Sansa said with a sad smile, there was a distant look in her blue-grey eyes that roused the Queen Regent's curiosity.

"But..." Cersei prompted, out the corner of her eyes she saw Duchess sit back on her haunches and howl deplorably after discovering Tommen and Myrcella hiding within a bed of tall white roses, she smirked in response, the gardeners were going to fall unconscious when they saw the state of their prized show-pieces.

"Nothing." Sansa shook her head and gestured for Duchess to return to her with a small click of her fingers, the tiny animal's red tongue made an appearance as she trotted back over to her mistress. Tommen and Myrcella were quick to search out a new hiding place while Sansa petted Duchess's silky pelt in way of rewarding the pup. Cersei's eyes narrowed in contempt, under no circumstances was she going to allow her lover to withhold any secrets from her, particularly when they made her smile miserably, but she didn't know how to coax the truth from her SheWolf without appearing emotionless.

"If you don't wish to tell me then I suppose I can't force it out of you" Cersei relented, a frustrated tick formed in her oval jaw as she returned her attention to her children wordlessly.

"...They remind me of Arya" Sansa whispered as she sent Duchess back out to track Tommen and Myrcella. Cersei tilted her head back up at the sky, the blue tones were slowly turning pinkish as the sun lszily descended from it's place above them. Her eyes drifted closed, the sounds of Sansa's shallow breathing and her children laughing flooded her ears as she fought to form an appropriate response.

"I don't where she is Sansa, I've had everyone searching for weeks now" Cersei opened her eyes, she looked closely at her lover so that the younger woman would know that she wasn't lying. Sansa's eyes were shinning brightly as she stared back at her, it felt like her insides were being torn out as she watched a lone tear wend it's way down Sansa's beautiful face.

"What if..." Sansa began, her voice was thick with tears, her lower lip quivered, Cersei reached out before she could register the dozens of malicious eyes watching them, she cupped Sansa's cheek in the palm of her hand, brushing the tear away even as a hundred more threatened to replace it.

"She is not in the city, and she did not escape King's Landing on her own. Arya is probably on her way, safely back to Winterfell even as we speak" Cersei assured her distressed lover, she had long since determined that conclusion, what else could possibly have happened the younger Stark girl?.

"You think so?" Sansa whispered desperately.

"I do" Cersei smiled, brushing her thumb over her lover's high cheekbone, luxuriating in the softness of Sansa's skin, how her hand tingled in awareness of the simple touch, how easy it would be to lean forward, to close the space between them, and brush their lips together in a tender kiss. Desire bloomed in the pit of her stomach, but is was overshadowed by a need to comfort her distraught SheWolf even as she caught a flame of arousal begin to simmer in the younger woman's breath taking eyes.

"Your Grace?" Cersei jerked back when she heard the Hound rumble behind her, she had been so consumed by the intimate proximity between herself and Sansa that she hadn't even heard the Hound's approach. Sansa bit her lip regretfully as Cersei withdrew her hand and turned away to look up at the Hound, she scowled inwardly when she found the Hound had a small smear of blood on his scarred cheek, obviously he had found more traitors among the peasant population of the capital.

"How many?" Cersei asked him bluntly, she kept her question vague so that Sansa wouldn't be able to grasp the meaning of their discussion, she didn't want her lover to be involved in such things not when the redhead was just starting to open up once more.

"Thirteen, not including the one from this morning" Sandor replied, Cersei's eyes widened slowly, thirteen people had been spewing venomous and unfounded lies about her son, it was because of this she had to keep Myrcella and Tommen cooped up in the Red Keep even when they longed to go outside.

"You dealt with it?" Cersei asked, it was an unneeded question, the Hound was among the most loyal of Lannister vessels, the small smirk that crossed the Hound's thin dry lips was only frightening to those who didn't know what it meant, the Hound was in a good mood.

"The walls have new decorations Your Grace" Cersei shared his smirk at the news.

"I'm beginning to wonder if we will ever find a more loyal soldier than you Sandor" Cersei said in way of dismissal, the Hound was momentarily stunned by the compliment from his Queen, recovering with a shake of his head, he bowed deeply in respect before he turned to leave. Cersei turned back to Sansa when the Hound was out of sight, he hadn't gone far though, he never did. The bewildered expression on her lover's face was preferable than the form look old despair, mindful of the onlookers Cersei discreetly reached out for Sansa's hand, she entwined their slender fingers together tightly, holding back a smile she settled for her signature smirk as she felt Sansa squeeze her hand beneath the table, she savoured the connection even as it dawned on her that she had never felt this strong for any of her previous lovers.

**TBC. . .**

**AN: Feedback is always appreciated ;D **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Game of thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.

**AN: I'm sorry about the wait, I tried to get this typed up as quickly as the muse came to me but school and work stuff got in the way, and it will continue to do so for the next six weeks, which really sucks. But before we move onto to Chapter four, I just wanna point out that, no matter how long it takes me to get new Chapters up, you can count on there being an update. I know exactly how annoying it is when stories are left half finished and I have no intention of letting any of mine end up like that. **

**Chapter Four.**

"Have you talked to him yet?" Tyrion asked as Cersei walked past him, seeming to not even register her brother's bothersome presence in her chamber. Beneath her cursory exterior the Queen Regent's heart was thundering in her chest. Cersei leaned against the front of her desk and crossed her arms, pointedly keeping her attention firmly on the Imp standing in front of her and off the red drape to the right, the Lannister sigil imposed proudly at the centre, which separated the receiving and quiescency areas of her chamber. Fearing that if her attention strayed, it would reveal exactly who has hidden behind the abstracting material. Behind the Queen Regent, outside the window, the sun was still lazily making its way into the pinkish sky.

"The sun is not even in the sky yet and you are asking me whether or not I have spoken to my fifteen year old son" Cersei arched her eye brow sardonically. When she and Jaime had been Joffrey's age, her twin had never been seen before mid-day, of course it had all changed once their father had given Jaime the opportunity to take up sword-training. He'd been up, dressed and in the courtyard before she was even out of bed. A soft stab of pain struck at her chest. She missed her idiot of a brother. She would detest his constant attendance when he was out of Robb Stark's hands and back at King's Landing, but for now she missed her twin and his comforting witticism. She didn't have to be mindful of her actions around Jaime, her brother accepted her for who she was and not who she pretended to be.

"I assumed you were going to talk to Joffrey yesterday afternoon..." The way Tyrion drawled betrayed that he knew what she'd been doing the previous day. She smiled inwardly as she recalled watching Myrcella and Tommen playing with Duchess while she enjoyed Sansa's company, outside of her bedchamber for once. Had she been a lesser woman, she would have shifted uncomfortably as the slight morning breeze drifted in through the window, encouraging the drape to dance mockingly at the corner of her eye.

"I knew I could detect your stench clinging to one of those attendants. Which one was it?, the scullery or under kitchen maid, couldn't possibly have been anyone of worth" Cersei sneered cruelly. The imp was bedding someone at the Palace, she knew that much, someone their father would have boiled alive if Tyrion repeated his past mistakes, the fact may prove to be useful if Tyrion ever discovered her relationship with Sansa.

"You're telling me you haven't already uncovered it my wise and all-knowing sister?" Tyrion replied sarcastically. Cersei narrowed her jade coloured eyes, it was really far too early for a verbal sparring match and she was hardly dressed for it, the white night gown and red over-gown provided more than enough coverage for a brief encounter with the vexing imp. But hardly enough for a task that required every layer of amour she could gather.

"Uncovered what?, that you cannot win the attentions of a respectable woman. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I discovered that decades ago as did everyone else" Cersei replied slyly. Tyrion's small stature was the only thing that truly bothered him, he hid it well from his 'friends' and his whores, but she knew better and she knew how to utilise it to her advantage in their ever ongoing controversy.

"Is Lancel among them?" Tyrion smirked.

"Who?, oh that clumsy simpleton that stares at my backside whenever he gets the opportunity..." She laughed humourlessly, first her twin then her bumbling idiot of cousin. Who was she going to be accused of bedding next? "...I've been overestimating you Imp, I had thought you boasted average intelligence. Now I see that not only are you stain upon the House of Lannister in appearance but you also lack our cunning" Cersei drawled, her voice was dripping with malice, she truly regretted that Sansa would be able to hear her, her lover was out of sight on the other side of the heavy red screen, where they had spent the night together.

"I'm not the only one who stains the respectable name of House Lannister though, am I?" Tyrion leaned forward on his feet as he stared up at her with accusing eyes. Picking up on her brother's meaning, Cersei could've screamed in frustration, she didn't know whether or not Tyrion believed the common lie, a large part of her didn't care what his opinion was, but she did care that Sansa was listening to every word that she growled at her brother and that, he in turn, hissed at her. Like two lions scraping over the same prestigious territory.

"No, most of our cousins share the same good-for-nothing traits that you do, only they are more than half a man" Cersei smirked as the insulted look that flashed in Tyrion's eyes. Triumph was reflected in her own when he couldn't answer her back.

"I will talk to my son, your King, when I so please. Now get out, you wouldn't want to ruin more of my morning now would you?" Cersei tilted her head as he turned and started for the half-open door without a word.

"Its nice that the Hound has a companion of his own kind is it not?" Tyrion mused as he headed for the door. Cersei felt her heart leap into her throat as Tyrion exited and pulled the door closed behind him. Sandor was standing guard outside her chamber, presumably Sansa had entrusted her canine companion into the care of the one man who knew their secret. Cersei took a deep breath in an attempt at dispelling the panic churning in her stomach as Tyrion's words echoed in her ears. _He couldn't know_, the blonde Queen Regent assured herself, she began to pace the length of her closed off chamber without realising what she was doing. She stopped on the eleventh segment, a sigh of relief left her lips, she could explain away the presence of Sansa's wolf outside her chamber this early in the morning. She just prayed it wouldn't be needed, even the smallest suspicion could blossom into something more. Moving towards the door to her chamber, she used the golden key, already inside the lock, to secure the door. Turning on her bare heel, she headed toward the screen, with her right hand she drew it back and slipped back into the disclosed side of her chamber. Her eyes took a moment to readjust to the darkness, but she had no difficulties locating the silhouette of her younger lover, laying on her side in the Queen Regent's four-poster bed with the crimson sheets drawn up to her slender waist. Cersei shed her outer-gown and climbed back into her bed silently, she didn't move closer to her lover, didn't pull the redhead into her arms like she wanted to. Tilting her head to the side, she winced, even in the dim light she could plainly see the tension in her lover's body, hunching Sansa's delicate shoulders inwardly.

"Tyrion and I have never had a loving relationship" Cersei murmured. She wasn't apologising for what she'd said to her brother or how she'd said it, but she did regret that Sansa had to hear it. She rued saying anything at all when nothing but Sansa's soft breathing answered her. She tried to delude herself into thinking her lover may have slept through her cruel exchange of words with her brother, but the redhead's tense body beside hers didn't allow her illusion the time to take root. She couldn't name the emotion roiling in her stomach as her lover remained quiet for long minutes. The Queen Regent sighed mournfully, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she'd lost the connection they'd slowly began building over the past month. Finally, after what seemed like a life-time, Cersei felt the mattress dip, she closed her eyes when she felt Sansa move closer to her. Her lover snuggled into her side beneath the sheets, laying her head on the Queen Regent's shoulder, Cersei wrapped her arms around the younger woman and held her tightly, inhaling Sansa's soft vanilla scent.

"He is the reason my mother is dead, I cannot forgive nor forget the pain he has caused me" Cersei could hear the words falling from her lips, but she didn't know why she felt the need to explain her hatred of her brother. She had only ever talked about the death of her mother with Jaime, and even he didn't truly understand how much she missed her mother.

"...H-he didn't choose to be born" Sansa stammered nervously, obviously fearing what the Queen Regent's response would be. Cersei's oval shaped jaw clenched bitterly, she wouldn't, she _couldn't,_ hurt her SheWolf, be it physically or verbally. She had thought that Sansa knew that.

"Don't fool yourself into thinking that Tyrion is a victim, Sansa, he is more dangerous than you know" Cersei found herself tracing small circular patterns on the silky smooth skin of Sansa's back as she spoke, the impulsive motions were mesmeric to both women.

"Fate turns us all into victims at some point" Sansa whispered. Cersei bit the inside of her cheek, she couldn't quite determine if those words were meant to sting as they did.

"Is that what you see yourself as little SheWolf, my victim?" Cersei muttered, she felt as though her head were on an executioner's block as she waited for an answer, she stared upwards, towards the ceiling instead of where her eyes longed to be.

"I used to...I don't anymore" Cersei couldn't prevent her gaze from latching onto Sansa. A strange emotion swept over her, it made her chest tighten, her stomach rolled in an uncomfortable yet addictive way and her head felt light but oddly focused. This curious sensation was...overwhelming. While all other thoughts seemed to spiral out of control, one thing became crystal clear in her mind and in her heart. This _thing _with Sansa was quickly blossoming into something more, something she hadn't known she'd wanted until now.

"And you never will again..." Cersei promised, in the back of her mind, she knew she had to leave the warmth of her bed in favour of the cold council chamber. She had another meeting with the small council regarding rationing in the event of war, if and when Stannis Baratheon attacked the city, sieges could last for weeks and they needed to be prepared for such an outcome. But she found that she held little motivation to depart, she would just as soon send all day in bed with Sansa tucked into her side, the only reason she would ignore her impulse was the knowledge that if she failed to attend the meeting then all political decisions fell to Tyrion, as acting Hand of the king. She scowled inwardly as each disastrous consequence presented itself to her with frightening clarity.

"You will be spending the day with Tommen and Myrcella..." Cersei murmured gently, she reluctantly disentangled her arms from around her lover's waist and regretfully slide out from beneath the Lannister red silk sheets.

"But Joffrey said..." Sansa began to protest, Cersei looked over her shoulder at the younger woman. Her chest constricted at the fear she could observe shinning in Sansa's beautiful eyes. She turned around to face her SheWolf, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and cleared her throat in a way of interrupting. For the first time she was thankful that Sansa was still mindful of who she was as the redhead fell silent.

"Joffrey will respect and abide by my judgement. As far as he will be concerned, you are to act as a nursemaid to my children. The truth is, that I had already planned to have you removed from his 'loving' care, the decision to have to have you tend to Tommen and Myrcella came at their request" Cersei smiled as she recalled looking in on her two youngest children the previous night, as she had sat in their respective chambers, patiently waiting for them to drift away from her arms and into sleep's warm embrace, all they could do was chatter about their day with Sansa.

"The only concept you must follow, is that they are to remain within the Red Keep. Under no circumstances are they to leave, no matter how much Myrcella begs and Tommen silently pouts" Cersei smirked, her children were formidable opponents when they determined they wanted something, in the past three years they'd had over twenty three nursemaids and they all made the same common mistakes. Her smirk slowly diminished as she untied the laces at the top of her white gown, while she had attendants to assist her dress and undress, she detested feeling unwanted hands touch her.

"Sansa?..." Cersei frowned, realising her lover had failed to answer her for the past several minutes. Stilling her elegant hands, the slender middle finger of her right hand was still adorned with her signet ring, glancing back over her shoulder she found Sansa staring intently at her body with heated eyes, the gown she wore was extremely thin and clung to her curves in all the right places. She barely stifled a shiver of awareness. Countless times she had seen that very same look over the past month, though it normally took some coaxing touches and seductive words on her part, her signature smirk found itself playing at the corner of her mouth even as desire pooled in the pit of her stomach heedless of the previous night's pleasures. She was close enough to the heavy screen that all she had to do was reach out with a graceful hand, pulling the red, luxe material to the side, she could just define that the sun had yet to reach it's morning peak in the East. By her estimate she had a full hour before her meetings began, a heated gleam shimmered in her jade coloured eyes as she let the screen fall back into place. She turned to look at Sansa with a seductive curve to her lips.

"Would you mind helping me with this?" Cersei whispered temptingly, lifting her hands back to the laces that held the front of her gown closed from neck to waist, the deep neckline displayed an immodest amount of cleavage. She didn't miss the dilation of Sansa's pupils nor the hitch in her lover's breathing, sexual exhilaration poured through her own veins. Pulling one of the intricate knots free, then another as she walked back to her bed and her shamelessly aroused SheWolf.

* * *

><p>"...Robb Stark continues to move south west, Your Grace." Cersei wasn't truly listening as one of the Maesters reported on the position of the Stark and Baratheon armies. She leaned back in her high-backed chair, her body may be in the council chamber but her thoughts were back in her bed chamber. She managed to restrain her smile, instead her signature smirk found itself firmly in place, as her collection of delicious aches pulsed in a delectable reminder of her morning.<p>

"...Your Grace?" Cersei was pulled out of her thoughts sluggishly. She glanced around the table as she clasped her hands together atop the polished surface. The bewildered expressions on the council members gave her some small focus.

"I'm well aware of how the Stark boy is advancing..." Cersei replied vaguely, she had already liaised with Lord Balon Greyjoy via letter, he was all too willing to lay siege to Winterfell on behalf of her family, not that the men before her knew about the interactions. She enjoyed leaving them floundering in chartered seas, particularly since she knew exactly how many of them had bribed her handmaidens and other members of her household to spy on her.

"I'm more concerned with the Baratheon movements" She arched a delicate blonde eyebrow as the Maester hurriedly shuffled through the documents on the table in front of him. Silence descended like a thick fog over the small council. Cersei rolled her eyes as the Maester muttered incoherently to himself.

"Were none of you aware of the rumours that Stannis and Renly move to attack each other?" Cersei drawled, allowing a small, arrogant laugh to fall from her lips. The men around her all cast their eyes downward, she leaned back in her chair and glanced around at them. Annoyance rose up within her, each glance at the individual Maesters added to her vexation, by the time she reached the last member, she was ready to call in the Hound with an order to execute them all for their sheer incompetence. The lot of them were more concerned with watching her, judging her for crimes and insults she hadn't committed when they should be focusing on the threats coming their way.

"I thought not..." She muttered, her eyes flared with anger "...We are adjourned. I won't be recalling this council until I deem it necessary as it seems that I can do all of your tasks myself. Now get out" Cersei snapped. Like a pack of well trained dogs they all rose to their feet, the sounds of chair-legs scraping against the stone floor resounded through the chamber, even as the Maesters' heads lowered as a sign of obedience she could see the burning resentment in their eyes. She sent them all her signature smirk, as they filed out of the chamber. Of course Tyrion lingered in his chair beside her, an ever present thorn in her side.

"If you can carry out all their duties, tell me sister how do you intend to protect the city when Stannis attacks?" Tyrion asked. His attempt at remaining insouciant was almost amusing, his wasn't an interest in caring for the people of King's Landing. Tyrion simply wanted to know what her plans were so he could gain some benefit.

"All you need to know is that I have no intention of letting Stannis taking control of this city" Cersei assured him easily. By her order, Hallyne the Pyromancer of the Alchemists' Guild had increased the production of 'wildfire', the volatile chemicals were being stored at the Guild and according to her daily reports, there were approximately four thousand jars with the quantity growing at an hourly rate.

"You didn't answer my question" Tyrion growled in annoyance.

"Tell me Imp, in what world so _I_ answer to_ you?" _Cersei sneered disdainfully.

"You've made it quite clear that you answer to no one but yourself, its a shame really, if this City falls you won't be able to blame anyone else" Tyrion mused.

"I'm sure thats all you're concerned about" Cersei narrowed her eyes. So long as she was Queen Regent King's Landing would not fall. No matter what Stannis pitched against her, there was too much at stake for any mistakes.

"Obviously...I'm also unworried about the morale of what little troops we have. Depending on what happens between Renly and Stannis, there is a very good chance that we will be facing insurmountable odds" Tyrion drawled. Cersei's jaw clenched, though she hated to admit it, her brother was correct. But she couldn't just pluck thousands of seasoned soldiers out of nothing.

"What do you suggest I do, pay for Sell-Swords like your mercenary..." She scoffed "...The battle would be over before it had begun. And you know exactly what Stannis will do every Lannister he finds, starting with us no doubt" The undeniable fact plagued her thoughts whenever it had the opportunity, when she was alone with her work, when she was cradling Sansa's spent body against hers in the very early hours of the morning, and most certainly when she was alone with her cherished children.

Sansa. Myrcella. Tommen. Joffrey

She would give up everything to them safe. Lands. Titles. Possessions. Wealth. Her very life. They meant more to her than anything material . Her hopes and dreams lay with them, at times she felt as though her only purpose was to keep them safe and happy. And Stannis Baratheon was threatening that.

"It's a pleasant prospect isn't it?" Tyrion drawled sarcastically, his sardonic tone failed in disguising the fear in his voice and eyes.

"I can certainly think of better uses for my time" Cersei responded with equal satire, she forced a laugh though it was patently devoid of any humour. She wouldn't let the Imp know how much she feared the up coming days and weeks. She felt like she were alone on a ship watching helplessly as a violent storm mounted, casting her into darkness with nothing but fright and uncertainty as her doting companions.

"You and me both" Tyrion nodded slowly. Cersei felt a frown tug at her brow as they fell into a silence that was neither awkward or comfortable, she couldn't recall the last time she had sat in a room with Tyrion alone without the two of them tearing shreds out of each other. Unbidden Sansa's words from the morning came back to her;

"_Fate turns us all into victims at some point"_

Maybe she had been unjustly cruel to Tyrion over the years, like Sansa had said the Imp hadn't chosen to be born, he didn't choose for their mother to die so that he could live. Her chest constricted tightly, as though small shards of ice were being plunged into her heart. She cleared her throat discreetly, swiftly containing her decades-old grief with practised simplicity.

"I must speak with Joffrey" Cersei rose to her feet gracefully, she tilted her head at Tyrion, a gesture he returned, before she walked towards the chamber door, several deep breaths dispelled the haze of sorrow that her mother's memory always brought with it.

"Have a good morning Cersei" Tyrion called after her as she pulled the door open, Sandor was waiting diligently outside, she looked over her shoulder at her brother. There was a foreign look on his face, one she had never seen before, her jaw clenched tightly. She held a verbal armoury of harsh words she would usually employ whenever she spoke with Tyrion, but she had no response to his seemingly innocent and genuine colloquial.

"We're in the middle of a war Tyrion" Cersei settled for after a moment of gathering appropriate responses, she didn't wait for a reply she simply walked out of the chamber with her head held high. As the Hound moved to flank her along with Ser Arys, she couldn't help but think that may very well have been the most civil conversation she'd ever had with her brother. Tilting her head to the side, she smirked in a calculative way.

* * *

><p>"How long do you intend to keep Sansa on as their nursemaid?" Joffrey demanded. Cersei glanced at the Hound and inclined her head towards the door to her chamber. Sandor lowered his head before he stalked out of her chamber, his heavy footsteps thudded against the stone floor, he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving her alone with her eldest son.<p>

"Until I find someone better" Cersei lied, her expression stayed blank as she leaned back in her chair. Joffrey glared at her and began to pace the length of the room, not unlike the way she had that very same morning, except his reasoning's fell short of the apprehensive mark. She didn't feel guilty for lying to her son, not when she was perfectly well aware of his recent behaviour.

"Sit...We need to talk" Cersei gestured toward the chair opposite her on the other side of her desk.

"The king has more important things to occupy his time" Joffrey snapped irritably, still pacing furiously, obviously he was not content to leave her to her work until he had what he wanted. He was going to be sorely disappointed if he thought she was going to return Sansa into his care. Her hands balled into fists as assertion began to pour through her veins.

"Things more important than his mother?" Cersei drawled, she allowed a small amount of hurt to shin in her eyes. Joffrey stilled his wild movements and stared at her with covetous blue eyes. He slumped forward and threw himself into the offered chair.

"Well what is it?" Joffrey asked loudly.

"You would tell me if there was something bothering you, wouldn't you Joffrey?" Cersei knew better than to simply blurt out her real reason for speaking with Joffrey. He would react badly and then he would strike out at whoever was ready to hand.

"You know what is bothering me mother" Joffrey answered, whether or not his pout was intentional, she couldn't help but compare him to Tommen and Myrcella. Contempt flared in her eyes, Joffrey was too old and too important to sit there sulking like a child. Especially when she knew he held no love for Sansa, he only kept her near him so he could torment her with his cruel words. The Hound had specific orders, from her, to prevent her son from physically harming her lover, if Joffrey ever raised his hand to Sansa, she instinctively knew she wouldn't be able to forgive him for it, that was why she'd set precautions in place.

"The war?" Cersei deliberately played coy.

"Why would that bother me?" Joffrey exclaimed with a frustrated sigh, as though he were talking to an imbecile. Cersei pursed her lips and frowned at her beloved son, she despised his tone but his words were what truly worried her.

"You understand that there is a very good chance that the City may fall to Stannis" Cersei prompted. She couldn't afford to understate the facts, not to herself, not the Maesters and not to Joffrey, even if her maternal instinct dictated that she shield him by keeping him in the dark about the military preparations well under way. While ignorance may be bliss for some, she viewed it as just another way for one to get killed.

"It matters little...I'm the King he knows that as does everyone else in _my _Kingdom" Joffrey stated firmly.

"Aerys Targaryen was once the King and everyone knew it, it didn't stop your father from ceasing power" Cersei retorted with a baffled look, how could Joffrey not see the dangers charging towards him, maybe he was choosing to ignore them, but that would make things much more problematic.

"The Mad King lost his power about the same time he lost his senses, I still have my wits" Joffrey impressed upon her with a dismissive wave of his hand. A frustrated tick formed as her jaw clenched.

"Of course you do my son..." Cersei smiled lovingly, even if Joffrey refused to recognise the dark storm cloud heading their way, it didn't matter, she would take care of matters. Her smile turned into a smirk. If her battle tactic was successful, if they managed to repel the Baratheon forces then she would credit Joffrey. Her deception would gain her son the respect and admiration from his subjects that Eddard Stark nearly destroyed with his false allegations.

"Before you go I would ask something of you" Cersei murmured.

"'When have I ever denied you anything'?" Joffrey echoed her words from a week ago, she forced a smile, she didn't appreciate her son talking down to her but she had other, more important, affairs to attend to. Starting with checking in on Sansa and her younger children.

"The next time your uncle gives you a 'gift', please refrain from breaking it" Cersei smirked with false hilarity, she couldn't believe that her son had actually beaten a woman simply because he could, overlooking the fact that said woman had been a whore, she had laughed when Tyrion had first told her, that was until she saw the young girl. She had felt physically ill as she observed the evidence that her little boy had done such a thing. And she couldn't allow this chain of vicious acts to grow anymore.

"I have no intention of doing such a thing, I won't have the time once I begin my training lessons" Joffrey boasted.

"Excuse me?" Cersei shook her head and stared at her son incredulously. She hadn't arranged any new lessons for any of her children.

"Tyrion suggested that when the City is attacked that I fight in the vanguard" Joffrey smiled as though he'd just be gifted with dragon egg, she felt as though she'd just been physically struck as the air fled her lungs. Her rejection of Joffrey's intention refused to be voiced, dizziness swamped her as Joffrey rose to his feet and walked out of her chamber. She couldn't breathe, it was as though a large weight was being pressed onto her chest, she clutched at her chest desperately. Joffrey couldn't fight in the vanguard, he had no experience except a few lessons under Jaime's tutelage. He would be killed within mere minutes. Rage and maternal instinct gave her the focus needed to gain control over her breathing once more.

"Damn that little bastard" Cersei hissed.

**TBC. . .**

**AN: Now remember what I said, I will update again and I will try to make it as quick as possible but in all likelihood it will probably be next month some time. I'm really sorry about that but I start my WBQ, it's an A-Level thing, next week so I won't have much time for anything. Sorry again ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Game of thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.

**AN: I'm really sorry about the lengthy delay between updates, I had no idea how prolonged and tedious my WBQ was gonna be but at least its over and I can get back to my writing. So without further ado here is the new instalment I hope everyone enjoys reading ;) **

**Chapter five.**

"Where is that deformed little bastard?" Cersei hissed between gritted teeth after dismissing her spies of either gender, she'd sent them out to find the Imp hours ago, after her eldest son had announced his intention to fight in the vanguard when the Baratheon forces attacked the City. Useless prigs that they were, they'd been unsuccessful in their simple task. Leaving her to alone with her mounting rage, her wine and The Hound.

"Your Grace..." Her blazing jade coloured eyes latched onto Sandor, standing tall in front of the oak door, his immense bulk, clad in the typical armour of the King's guard, easily eclipsed the entrance. Despite his large size, he shifted on his massive booted feet under her dark glower. Not that she blamed him, her infamous glare was the source of night-terrors for a multitude of people.

"What?..." She snapped venomously, disregarding the gem encrusted goblet on the gleaming oak desk in front of her, Cersei's elegant pale hand encircled the slim neck of a wine bottle, the stopper hand already been removed.

"Allow me to track down the Imp. It will be done with all haste" Sandor drawled in his deep baritone while Cersei lifted the wine bottle to her red lips in an unladylike manner. If her Father had been there with her, she'd likely be on the receiving end of a hard, reprimanding slap. Taking a healthy sip she slowly mulled over the advantages of sending the Hound after her devious, pompous brother.

"No. You will remain in the Keep, entertain Joffrey with tales of battles long passed..." Cersei cocked her head to the side. If anyone stalked after her interfering brother with deadly intent in their hearts and cold steel in their hands, it would be her. Harsh insults she could forget, Gods only knew she gave as good as she got during verbal sparring matches, but she refused to forgive Tyrion for his latest attack on her and the ones she loved.

"...I want you to scare Joffrey witless" Cersei looked closely at Sandor, a silent exchange of understanding passed between the Queen Regent and her loyal guard. The Hound could strike fear into the very souls of all who drew near to him, through physical means or on the extremely rare occasion a verbal effectuation. The task she set him required the latter. Talk of bloodshed, amputation and scarred memories should be all that was needed to clear her son's mind of the battlefield. Foolish boy, he lacked the training to fight alongside the few Lannister soldiers inside King's Landing.

"I will do as you command Your Grace" The Hound bowed his great head.

"Go..." She dismissed the brute of a man with a wave of her wine bottle "...The next time I see my son I want him begging me to never allow him the 'opportunity' to step foot on the field of battle" Cersei took another sip of the Dornish wine, savouring the sweet bite of alcohol as it slid down her throat and into her stomach. The Hound turned on his massive heel and exited her chamber with a silence a man his imposing size shouldn't be capable of. Setting the bottle back down on her desk next to its uselessly empty twin, she reached into the top drawer of her solid oak desk, removing the spare pieces of parchment she stored there, unceremoniously piling them on the table, before her slender fingers went in search of a barely noticeable silver pin towards the back of the storage space. With years of practised experience, she lifted the artifice bottom of the drawer, beneath, stashed in a hidden compartment was a jewel encrusted dagger contained within in an elaborate golden sheath. A slow smirk curved the right corner of her mouth upwards. The double edged, seven inch blade had been a gift from Jaime before she had married Robert, not that she'd ever had cause to use it, each of her late husbands visits to her bed had been distasteful for them both. Often ending in each of them recalling the faces and forms of previous lovers. After she had born Tommen into the world they had both eagerly agreed to turn a page on their sexual liaisons and instead focused on raising the three beautiful children their disastrous couplings had gifted them with.

Robert had been a good father to their children, however he hadn't been present for their births due to his uneasiness with the birthing bed. Cersei rolled her eyes fondly. For such an avid hunter and accomplished solider, her late husband's malaise at the most natural act in the world was utterly ridiculous. Trailing her long fingers over the dagger, tucked snugly into the bottom of the drawer, with a smooth flick of her wrist the moderately weighted weapon was balanced perfectly in her palm. Had Robert still been alive, it was likely he would already have Tyrion's scrawny neck trapped between his brutish hands with a dangerous glint in his dark brown eyes. Cersei smirked as she slipped the blade into the sleeve of her Lannister red dress effectively concealing the weapon from obvious view, the cold glide of heartless gold against her naked forearm made her shiver with the first tingle of adrenaline. As much as she would've relished watching her late husband drain the life out of her treacherous brother with his bare hands, the fact remained, a Stag couldn't protect his young nearly as well as a Lioness could.

Replacing the mendacious bottom of the drawer, the parchment and other writing materials. Cersei took one last swig of her wine, leaving the bottle perched on the top of her desk before she stalked towards the tall oak door that The Hound had disappeared out of just moments before. She briefly regretted drinking her way through three bottles of wine in the interval of an hour as the rich alcohol coursed through her body making her head swim. But she would not let that dissuade her from her objective. The Imp would rue the day he attempted to endanger the life of her son.

* * *

><p>Barely an hour later, the Queen Regent was prowling through the wide halls of the Red Keep, with Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Boros Blount flanking her on either side. She had yet to cross paths with Tyrion, despite the accounts gathered from the servants she passed claiming that the Hand was inside the Keep. With each graceful step she took she became more and more convinced that Lannister gold had painted their tongues an untrustworthy hue, which meant once she was finished with the deceitful Dwarf, she would have to retrace her steps and instigate the proper punishments delivered to those who lied to the Queen Regent. Cersei's jade coloured eyes centred on a nearby window, her mood darkened dangerously when she glimpsed the setting sun, bright pink and red streams were left in its wake, forcing the brilliant blue sky to give way so that the jet black, blanket of night may take its place. Abruptly she halted in the middle of the hall, her guards skidded to a stop beside her. Two pairs of curious eyes were aimed at her, but neither Ser Arys nor Ser Boros dared to question the Queen Regent for fear of attracting the unwanted attention of her undisguised rage.<p>

"Ser Arys..." Despite the lingering alcohol burning through her veins neither her speech nor her movements were affected, the anger churning away in her stomach had engrossed her senses on attaining vengeance instead of falling prey to the potent wine she had recently ingested.

"Your Grace?" Ser Arys clasped his gloved hands together and awaited her further instruction. Had she ordered him to leap out of the window to their right he would have done so without a seconds thought, she enjoyed having such power over everyone she encountered.

"I want you to go and wait outside the Imp's chamber..." She would never refer to Tyrion as 'The Hand', it was a prestigious title belonging only to those who were worthy of serving directly under the King, one the Dwarf hadn't earned "...And when he returns, I want you to restrain him, take him down to the dark cells and notify me immediately. Do you understand?" Cersei tilted her head at the tall guard, speaking slowly as to prevent him from 'accidentally' failing to carry out her orders. Unlike Ser Boros, Ser Arys was well known to hold a kind heart. She wouldn't be surprised if the Imp managed to 'avoid' being treated like a common treasonous pest.

"Yes Your Grace" Ser Arys lowered his head.

"Ser Boros, I want you to find his sells-word. Do not engage in conversation or anything else, I simply want you to keep him in your sights" She was aware of the mercenary's skill, after she had come across Bronn the day he had arrived with Tyrion she had asked The Hound what his impression of the sell-sword was. While she couldn't say she'd ever seen Bronn's abilities for herself, nor to her recollection had Sandor, but she was inclined to place some stock in the Hound's opinion.

"As Your Grace commands" Ser Boros lowered his head, though he seemed disappointed that he hadn't been given the opportunity to 'deal' with the Imp.

"Are you waiting for me to write your orders down?..." She hissed venously when the two remained standing before her as though she'd hadn't spoken. The two guards blanched fearfully before they'd scurried away in the opposite direction like two mice being pursued by a hungry cat. She scowled deeply as she turned on her heel, stalking down the hall with no particular destination in mind. It took her but a moment to realise exactly where her subconscious cognition was leading her. She was fortunate no one was present to observe her vivified pace.

* * *

><p>"...Mother!" The Queen Regent was completely unprepared for the golden headed child that suddenly barrelled into her. She fell back against the solid oak door she had just closed with a soft grunt of discomfort while tiny arms did their best to encircle her waist. She instinctively knew who they belonged to and attempted to return the awkward embrace.<p>

"You should be in bed Myrcella" Cersei breathed, running her hands through her daughter's long silken tresses that had yet to be braided for the night, she frowned, as far as schedules went, her children were extremely behind in their nightly routine.

"But Sansa hasn't finished her story" Myrcella argued without hesitation, jerking herself out of the older blonde's arms and running back to the large four-poster bed that dominated the entire chamber. Cersei regained her graceful composure as Myrcella hopped back onto the bed, scurrying back beneath the crimson coverlet quicker than a cat. Beside her, listening intently to Sansa as the younger woman recounted a tale of the North, was Tommen. Towards the foot of the bed, sprawled out on her tiny back was the sleeping form of Duchess, the pup was snoring softly and her left hind leg as twitching furiously. Cersei's chest constricted tightly, causing breathing to become difficult, as she lingered by the door, the sight before her quelled the torrent of violent emotions, once an undeniable force within her, now an after thought, with such ease one would think she hadn't been consumed in a rage mere seconds before. The door behind her seemed to be keeping the outside world at bay.

"What is this story about then?" Cersei padded across the chamber, her light footsteps did nothing to distract her from the hypnotic tones of her lover's voice. Had she not caught a glimpse of Tommen with half lidded eyes she might have felt slightly insulted that Sansa hadn't looked up at her on her approach. As it was, a slow smile curved her lips upwards as she settled on the edge of the large bed beside Myrcella, her daughter instantly moved closer to her beneath the bedsheets.

"Shh Mama" Myrcella whispered tiredly, her previous rush of energy apparently evaporating as she snuggled further into her pillow. The Queen Regent's perfectly shaped eyebrows raised quizzically for a brief moment, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and settled for listening intently to her lover's melodious voice. Tilting her head to the side, a long sigh of contentment escaped her, she so rarely got to spend time with her children anymore, the day in the gardens none withstanding, the knowledge that Sansa was sitting a matter of inches away from her only added to the immeasurably valuable moment.

She caught Sansa's blue-grey gaze as her SheWolf continued with her story, the redhead's secret smile was just as mesmerising as her voice. Cersei soon gathered that Sansa's narration was that of a young wolf, not yet fully grown, trapped in an unknown land away from her family with all manner of dangerous creatures surrounding her. With each day that passed, a new creature would appear to test the young wolf in some way. First there was an arrogant Stag, then there was a cunning Mockingbird and so on, all of them simply waiting for the wolf to make a fatal mistake. As time went on though the young wolf discovered a pride of Lions, to which every creature owed it's allegiance.

"The wolf is very fortunate to have found the Lions" Myrcella declared. Cersei smiled down at her daughter, she could blatantly see the younger blonde fighting a losing battle to keep her eyes open.

"Why do you say that little one?" Cersei murmured, watching her lover closely as she stroked Myrcella's forehead tenderly, urging the younger blonde to cease her struggle against sleep's sweet embrace.

"Lions always protect the ones they love" Myrcella slurred quietly.

"How true my darling" Cersei whispered as Myrcella drifted into the land of dreams beside Tommen. In the silence that followed one would could easily hear the wind soaring past the closed windows. Cersei occupied herself with running her fingers through her daughter's long blonde locks while keeping a curious eye on Sansa. The redhead hadn't moved an inch, indeed it seemed as though a statue had replaced the stunningly lithe form of her lover.

"But then love is a very elusive emotion or so I am told" Cersei swallowed at the raw confusion that suddenly burned in Sansa's pale wolf eyes, so akin to the disorder churning away in her stomach. Before she had taken Sansa to her bed, every aspect of her life was arranged in a strict order, she was in control of every emotion, every action, every thought and decision. But now she felt as though it were all falling apart, only to steadily rebuild to include Sansa. She never seemed to be able to make a decision that didn't include her lover's welfare and happiness, each thought always held the shadowy form of her lover, before she had encountered Sansa for the first time in Winterfell she couldn't boast any true emotions, protectiveness and maternal instinct were the only two feelings she had known, now she held a vast sea of unknown sensations. This loss of control was both something she was wary of and something she longed to explore. But it would have to wait until the volatile storm, heading towards King's Landing with all haste, had passed. Once she had subjected the Baratheon and Stark forces to Lannister rule. Only then could she entertain thoughts of keeping Sansa.

"Let us to bed my little SheWolf" Cersei stood up gracefully. The Queen Regent watched with an unreadable expression as Sansa jerked herself out of her own thoughts, leaving a languid smile painted across the redhead's beautiful face. She refused herself the luxury of making assumptions of what Sansa's look meant, heedless of her instant longing.

"Shouldn't I..." Sansa stood up, lingering by the bedside of Tommen and Myrcella, and granting the Queen Regent a clear view of her lover's perfectly shaped form encased in red silk, Cersei licked her lips slowly. She had always found Sansa to hold breath taking beauty, however, the sight of her lover wearing _Lannister _colours caused waves of pure possessiveness to pour through her veins.

"Let them sleep..." Cersei whispered, the soft tone did nothing to hide her easy authority, catching Sansa's meaning when her SheWolf continued to stare at the sleeping forms of her children, the redhead nibbled on her succulent lower lip nervously "...They are but children and cannot attract the attention of the vultures just yet" Cersei murmured. She feared the day that her youngest children would become objects of constant scrutiny, she didn't want them to harden in defence against the harsh rumours that would someday enclose them, and she certainly didn't want them learning to lash out at those around them with the same destructive ferocity that she did.

"Come with me Sansa, the night is still young and I want to utilise that" With lust darkened eyes, Cersei watched as her predatory smirk prompted a titillated blush to stain Sansa's aristocratic high cheekbones.

* * *

><p>Gentleness. It wasn't a trait Cersei showed often, having been taught since childhood that softness was simply another word for weakness, she was only gentle with her children and on most occasions she was gentle with Sansa. But not while they were in bed together. Never then. When it came to giving pleasure, she was wild, passionate, attentive, adept and extremely thorough. Her hunger for her younger lover was only heightened by Sansa's response to her touches, hot, desperate writhing and wanton screams. It was enough to drive her towards the precipice of ecstasy without her SheWolf's shy, far less experienced exploration that she enjoyed far more than the experient caresses of past lovers. Soon she found herself being soaring into the abyss of rapture with a strangled moan, an arch of her back and a twist of her hips against the disarrayed bedsheets beneath their, naked, perspiration dotted bodies.<p>

"Ask me about it only if you truly wish to hear the answer" She purred into Sansa's delicate ear afterwards. The Queen Regent was curled on her side, arms wrapped tightly around the younger woman, her breasts, upper chest, flat stomach and her slender hips were pressed into the smooth contours of sated lover's back, their long legs were entwined also. Not a single inch of their bodies was left detached. Nuzzling her face into the crook of her SheWolf's neck, Cersei waited patiently as Sansa mulled over why the Queen Regent would carry a concealed dagger inside her dress sleeve. The elaborate weapon sat undisturbed and uncaring atop the small table on the left side of the four poster bed the two lovers lazed in, directly in Sansa's line of sight.

"Would your answer be truthful if I did?" Sansa whispered, physical exertion coloured her melodious tone, their close proximately was the only reason that the Queen Regent was able to hear her lover's words.

"Yes" Cersei stated bluntly. She didn't like the thought of revealing her deadly intentions, much earlier in the night, to her innocent lover for fear that Sansa would withdraw back into her isolated shell, away from her, but she wouldn't blatantly lie to her SheWolf. She felt ill at the prospect of telling an untruth to her lover, another sensation she was inexperienced with. Concocting fabrications, withholding information and manipulating the truth to gain what she wanted was commonplace to her, it always had been, until now. She found her arms tightening around Sansa of their own accord, the action didn't shock her, no matter how out of place it was for her. She had never willingly lingered in bed with a lover before Sansa, she had never enjoyed bodily contact once she had gained her gratification and her release, but then neither had she taken a lover in her own bed.

"I wouldn't have thought you would required such a thing when you always have guards around you" Sansa murmured in the darkness of the Queen Regent's bedchamber.

"I don't carry it often..." Cersei admitted, whispering intimately into her lover's dainty ear, savouring Sansa's soft shivers of awareness as she began drawing gentle patterns on the younger woman's flat stomach with her short fingernails "...Only when I deem it necessary and in this instant it was"

"Did you..." The words died in the younger woman's throat.

"No" Cersei purred immediately when she felt Sansa stiffen in her arms.

"But you would have" Sansa pressed, relaxing somewhat in the Queen Regent's embrace.

"Without hesitation" She tried to keep the cold edge out of her voice with no avail. She mentally cursed herself when her SheWolf shifted, pulling herself out of the Queen Regent's lithe arms and sitting up beside the older woman, drawing her knees to her chest. Cersei clenched her jaw tightly to prevent herself from jerking her lover back into her arms, instead she remained laying on her side, resting one elegant hand on the slender curve of her bare hip and supporting her head with the other. In the silence that followed, Cersei trailed her jade coloured eyes over her lover's delectable form, attempting to read Sansa's emotions from the tension she could detect lining the redhead's breath taking body.

"And I may still have the pleasure of seeing the life drain from Tyrion's eyes tonight" Cersei drawled with a smirk. Sansa's head whipped to the side, the shock reflected in her lover's wolf eyes made her flinch inwardly, but there was no fear. Cersei concealed her satisfied grin behind her majestic exterior. Sansa knew and finally recognised that she would never hurt the younger woman.

"But he is your brother" Sansa whispered as through fratricide was unheard of and perhaps in the North it was. But not in the South. Sibling murdered sibling for far less than her justified reasons.

"No. He was born of my mother and in doing so he murdered her and now he is trying to get my son killed. Those actions forfeit his right to be called my brother. His crimes against me and mine span over thirty years and I will sooner cut my own throat before I see him continue" Cersei's former anger once again blossomed in the pit of her stomach, depleting any remorse she would feel from her lover's confused and innocent looks.

"Your mother wouldn't want to see you hurt him" Sansa murmured quietly, avoiding the unspoken fact that it was Joffrey's life in danger. Hesitant but determined wolf eyes met those of a angered lioness. For a brief moment Cersei entertained the truth of her lover's statement. Her mother would condemn both their actions, her slow, signature smirk curved the right corner of her full lips upwards. She knew what her mother would have done had she been alive, likely she would lock them both in a chamber, refusing to let them out until they solved the riddles of their argument regardless of their need for sustenance.

"My mother is dead and my compassion for that _thing_ along with her..." Cersei stated with a lethal tranquillity, she tilted her head slowly, the long strands of her waist length blonde hair fell over her shoulder.

"...Lions protect those they love Sansa. I love my children unconditionally and I will protect them even against one who should, by principle, do the same" Cersei assured her lover coldly. Her glacial posture thawed the instant she saw the brightness of her SheWolf's eyes. She was on her knees beside her lover instantaneously, so swiftly that she hardly noticed she was moving, she pulled the younger woman into her arms. She didn't quite understand Sansa's unshed tears but she would cut her own arm off to stop them from falling.

"Don't cry little SheWolf-" Cersei whispered, drawing Sansa against her body, their lack of clothing didn't register with the Queen Regent at all. She nuzzled the top of her lover's head tenderly, each of Sansa's strangled sobs raked viciously at her heart and soul. Helplessness wasn't something she was accustomed to feeling, and she certainly didn't like it, but there was no doubt in her mind that was the emotion bubbling away inside of her, driving her former anger back into it's cage. After the lose of her mother when she was four years old she had prayed and prayed to the Gods to reunite them, only to have her father tell her that the Gods didn't listen to their playthings, that they enjoyed watching the suffering of humans because they couldn't feel misery themselves. But she would readily drop onto her knees and beg the deities that didn't listen to stop Sansa's tears even if she couldn't grasp what had provoked such a response in her lover.

"-Please..." The soft plea shocked her, sending icy shivers up her spine, the single word she whispered felt foreign on her tongue. A tight bitter smile spread across the Queen Regent's face. Cersei breathed a sigh of utter relief when she heard her lover's sobs trail off into tiny hiccups and felt the her SheWolf snuggle closer into the warmth of her naked body. The fist clenching around the jaded organ in her chest released it's excruciating hold.

"Why the tears Sansa?" She had to know what had upset her lover, the urge went past a simple desire to uncover the reason and into that uncharted part of her being where her emotions concerning her younger lover resided. She slowly drew random patterns on the smooth expanse of Sansa's upper left arm and her upper back. She hoped that Sansa enjoyed the comforting touch as much as she did. She was jerked roughly out of her thoughts as Sansa shook her head and continued to cling to her desperately.

"Tell me..." Cersei instructed gently. It wasn't a request, such a thing would imply that her lover had a choice in whether or not the younger woman revealed what had caused her distress when she didn't. Cersei would discover her answer as surely as the moon would give way to sun on the morrow. Lifting her own head before she tilted her SheWolf's head towards her, in the darkness of the room she could only just define the beautiful contours of Sansa's face. No matter. She didn't need her eyes to see what her mind had memorised.

"Tell me..." Cersei repeated insistently, cupping Sansa's oval shaped jaw in her hand while she continued tracing soft soothing patterns on her lover's slender shoulder with the other.

"I..." An amorous glimmer suddenly sparked to life in Sansa's blue-grey eyes, burning brightly even in the darkness, it called to that unknown part of the Queen Regent. A clutter of words were abruptly settling on the tip of her tongue as she stared back at her SheWolf with a longing she couldn't quite define. Tenderhearted words. Forbidden words.

"...Its nothing Cersei" Sansa sighed, attempting to break their identical gaze which the Queen Regent prevented with soft tightening of her hold on her lover's perfectly delicate jaw.

"I told you the truth when asked. You should return the favour" Cersei pressed, with no intention of relenting until she had Sansa smiling again. She wasn't above using underhanded tactics when it came to discovering what had upset the redhead.

"Cersei..." The soft plea was almost enough to deter her from her objective. Almost. Until she recalled the acute pain in her chest as she held her weeping lover.

"If a request from a lover is not enough to loosen your tongue then perhaps an order from the Queen Regent will suffice"She secretly despised herself for using her high station to her advantage, but how else could she gain the knowledge needed to make her lover feel content once more?. However her worries of upsetting Sansa further still were unfounded. The tender gleam in Sansa's mesmerising eyes burned even brighter than before.

"I..." A slow smile began to make its long awaited presence as Sansa began to speak, Cersei braced herself for what was to come only to growl irritably in the back of her throat when a thunderous knock on her locked chamber door echoed through the room. Ignoring it with surprising ease, she remained centred of the woman in her arms.

"Out with it Sansa" Cersei pressed anxiously as there was another loud knock on the chamber door, this time accompanied with The Hound's deep rumbling voice:

"Ser Arys to see you Your Grace" Sandor reported, even through the thick oak door she could hear him clearly. She reluctantly glanced away from her lover, she had yet to slide the heavy screen, that separated the receiving and quiescency areas of her chamber, closed. The soft autumn breeze drifted in through a partially opened window, beneath that window was a small squad of guards, fortunately her chambers were located high above the ground so that no sentry would be able to catch the sounds of rapture that echoed through the room each night.

"Tyrion..." Cersei whispered with a blood thirsty glint in her jade coloured eyes, finally she would see the Imp beg for mercy, a clemency he would not receive. She smirked, before she returned her attention to her lover, her gaze softened instantly.

"I'm waiting" She murmured quietly.

"I will tell you...but only if you stay with me tonight" Sansa whispered, biting her lover lip nervously.

"Your negotiations are all for naught...Once the Imp is dead and I have washed his blood from my hands I will return to you" Cersei said, surely Sansa had already known that. The only reason she would refrain from drawing out Tyrion's death into the next day was so that she could return to her SheWolf. She enjoyed holding Sansa through the night. Listening to the redhead's breathing, feeling the warmth of her lover's body beside hers, but mostly she relished waking to find her SheWolf in her embrace more than she savoured the thought of driving her blade through Tyrion's chest and watching with a smirk on her face as the life drained from his beady eyes.

"Joffrey is still alive Cersei, whatever foolish plan that Tyrion intends to act out can still be foiled without violence" Sansa looked back at her, blessedly without fear, just determination. Cersei smiled inwardly despite the shadow of frustration she could feel beginning to appear inside of her, she had never seen this side of her lover but she delighted in its uncovering.

"It would please you if I did this?" Cersei tilted her head as their eyes locked together. Her lover was correct. She could thwart the Imp's plan, by doing so without violence would humiliate him, perchance to the extent that he would halt in his endeavours to ruin her. And if it didn't, there were other methods in which she could hurt him dearly, she knew the dwarf was bedding someone at the Keep, she simply had to find who it was.

"Yes..." Sansa blushed.

"Then it will be done" Cersei leaned forward and kissed her lover gently, tenderly brushing their lips together before she pulled back reluctantly ignoring Sansa's soft sigh of disappointment, she would have reclaimed the softness of her lover's lips once more with the intention of deepening their kiss, but she rationalised that the sooner she sent Ser Arys on his way the sooner she could return to her lover's welcoming embrace. After standing up from her bed and blindly reaching for her revealing night gown, still folded neatly atop a small table in the corner, she slipped the red silk over her head and ran her hands over her long blonde mane, ensuring she looked somewhat presentable. She caught Sansa smiling in pure wonderment, a half smile of her own made a brief appearance in response as she pulled the heavy Lannister red drape into place, hiding her lover from immediate view. Stalking towards the door to her large chamber, she turned the small golden key in its lock, hearing the strong bolt come undone.

"It has been been done?" She demanded after she flung the door open. The imposing presence of The Hound to her right and the comparatively minuscule form of Ser Arys directly in front of her with his head inclined.

"It has Your Grace" Ser Arys lowered his head further still as he mumbled his concord.

"He can rot in his cell for the night..." She may have promised Sansa that she wouldn't kill Tyrion however she hadn't said she would make the Imp comfortable "...You're dismissed Ser Arys" She said icily.

"Your Grace" Ser Arys retreated down the wide corridor. The stone walls furnished with tapestries proudly displaying the Lannister sigil.

"Sandor..." She felt compelled to acknowledge The Hound before she returned to Sansa. True to form, Sandor remained silent as he tilted his head forward respectfully. She cast one last glance down the hall, she didn't know what she was searching for but the urge was there. Nothing but muteness greeted her query. Turning on her bare heel she closed the door and locked it before she stalked across her chamber, the cold marble beneath the soles of her feet sped her pace. Within moments she was parting the heavy screen and sliding back into her bed, retaining her red silk night gown to discuss Sansa's worries seemed practical. Her SheWolf had pulled the light coverlet up to her slender neck in her absence.

"You were saying?" Cersei prompted, masking her eagerness behind a lazy drawl, studying her lover's anxious expressions and tensed shoulders.

"I miss my family" Sansa whispered, avoiding the Queen Regent's penetrating gaze and toying with the corner of the bedsheets with her slender fingers. Pain and something else flared in Cersei's chest, so sharply she couldn't even muster a single comforting word. Swallowing the hard lump in her throat she shifted closer to her lover, she wasn't too certain about how the redhead would receive her sentiment. She carefully pulled her SheWolf into her arms, savouring the warmth of the younger woman's body against hers and the soft weight of Sansa's head resting on her shoulder.

"You will see them again" Cersei muttered. When every Northerner bent the knee and swore allegiance to Joffrey, accepting her son's authority as the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm. A frown tugged itself into place across the Queen Regent's face. Even when Robb Stark and his House declared their loyalty, and she would have their utter compliance.

_Would she actually let them take Sansa away from her?. _

The instinctive tightening of her lithe arms around her SheWolf's relaxed form and the instant rejection raging at the very core of her being gave her the answer:

_No_

**TBC. . . **

**AN: I'll be back with the next Chapter just as soon as I update my other fics, in mean time though...Penny for your thoughts? ;D**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Game of thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.

**AN: Sorry about the wait, I would've gotten this Chapter up sooner but ah, I got writer's block for the first time in a year while writing the next update for one of my other Fics. It was horrible. But hopefully this new installment will make up for the wait. Happy reading ;D**

**Chapter Six.**

"Sandor!..." The Hound burst into the Queen Regent's chamber before she had uttered the last syllable of his name, he pushed the oak door closed behind him and clasped his large hands together in front of him.

"Your Grace?" The Hound rumbled in his deep baritone. The Queen Regent didn't look away from the sight she was entranced by. Out in the gardens, illuminated by the early morning sun, Sansa and Duchess watched over Tommen and Myrcella while the Queen Regent's youngest children went about their lesson in politics. Cersei wasn't entirely certain what their new, male tutor's name was, however her spies had already delivered her an in depth report regarding the tutor's background. She was satisfied that he would suffice until she found someone better qualified to educate her children.

"I have not seen Joffrey yet, mayhap you failed in your endeavour?" She murmured, turning away from the heart-warming sight before her viridity coloured eyes. She enjoyed watching Sansa interact with her children as though it were the simplest task in the world, it warmed the jaded organ in her chest to witness how swiftly Tommen had taken a shine to her younger lover and it was clear to her that Myrcella idolised her SheWolf.

"I do not believe so Your Grace, the King seemed every...out of sorts when I left him yesterday evening" The Hound reported dutifully.

"I will have to see him later then..." Cersei murmured to herself as she sat down at her wide desk "...I need you to do something else for me" She stated as she picked up a document that had been laying on the surface of her desk, concerning the need for further rationing during the Baratheon attack. She was certain she had already delivered her decision on this matter.

"Anything Your Grace" The Hound inclined his head.

"I want you to 'procure' me one of Baelish's whores, the very same one that Tyrion tried manipulate my son with..." Cersei instructed firmly. She smirked inwardly at the sudden looks of incredulity and stupefaction she caught slipping through The Hound's commonly impassive expression. Leaning back in her high-backed chair and replacing the document in her elegant hand on the table, she stared at her bulky enforcer expectantly.

"...Before you leave the Keep, I also want you to deliver this to Sansa" Cersei pulled open the top drawer of her carved oak desk, reaching inside she carefully lifted the long, narrow, rectangular wooden box that lay peacefully inside the compartment. It boasted no elaborate gilding nor any detailed etchings. The case was simple, completely contradictory of the single blossom hidden inside, an Adenium hybrid, across between a Desert Rose and an Impala Lily. The tips of the seven individual petals held a deep crimson colour while towards the centre the rich red colours eventually bled out into the palest white she had ever seen. A beautiful, unique flower for a woman that held those very same traits.

"Of course Your Grace" She could determine from the hitch in The Hound's deep voice that he was more than a little confused as to why she would send him to bring her a whore in the same instant she send him to deliver her lover a gift. Cersei extended the rectangular box out to Sandor as he approached her desk, his heavy footfalls echoed thorough her chamber, louder than an onslaught of thunder.

"I expect your conduct to be extremely discreet in this 'delicate matter' Sandor, more so than ever" It wouldn't do to have one of the Maesters or their many pairs of eyes to see a whore being escorted into her personal chambers, the ramifications would no doubt be grave and she couldn't afford to attract the attention of the vultures while her relationship with her SheWolf grew increasingly more consuming. Sandor tucked the Rectangular box into one of the large, leather pouches attached to his thick belt.

"Your Grace..." He lingered in front of her, an uncommon act for her loyal liege subject. She clasped her hands together atop her desk and arched a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow sardonically. His concern for Sansa's emotional state was cutting through his indecipherable expression, his worries were utterly uncalled for and unneeded, she had no intention of bedding the whore. She held eyes for none except Sansa.

"When carrying out your tasks, do remain a while with Sansa, I would like to know what she makes of my gift before I see her this evening. You're dismissed" The final word hadn't even left her red lips before she was once more reaching for the shares document in front of her. She scowled inwardly, as tedious as she found managing decisions that required a great deal of approximations she knew, that she would have to settle on a specification before the whore arrived. Once the harlot was with her, her game of wits with the Imp would begin. She hadn't seen nor heard of his movements since she'd reluctantly ordered Ser Arys to release him that very same morning, after much 'coaxing' from Sansa. She reclined in her chair with her signature smirk firmly in place, almost purring with contentment as she recalled her morning activities.

* * *

><p>"Your Grace..." Cersei finished pressing the face of her signet ring into the glob of crimson wax clinging to the bottom of the document, when she carefully lifted the solid gold ring, the impression of a lioness baring her sharp canines was left gracing the page. She ignored Sandor's hulking presence on the other side of her desk, beside his imposing bulk stood a tall redhead, as she reached for a piece of worn, lipid stained cloth, she ran the cloth over the face of her signet, removing any and all traces of wax, before she replaced the rag on her desk and returned her signet to its rightful place, adorning the long middle finger of her elegant right hand.<p>

"You may leave Hound..." Cersei purred, finally acknowledging the other two people in her chamber, the use of Sandor's appellation in the proximity of others was a necessity, to conceal the growing strength of their mistress-servant relationship. As Sandor turned to leave she gestured with her hand for the whore to approach her desk. It was like observing a newborn deer attempt to gain her footing. Exceedingly awkward with a hint of uncertainty.

"...Your name eludes me" Cersei commented when the tall redhead stopped in front of her desk, the Queen Regent's eyes narrowed on the whore before she looked pointedly at the basic leather chair on the other side of her desk. Cersei pursed her full red lips in distaste as the other woman fumbled to take the 'offered' seat.

"Ros, Your Grace" 'Ros' answered nervously, for a whore the other woman seemed very tense. To some extent she had expected such an emotion to be obvious from the whore, after all the last occasion the redhead been in close vicinity to one of her high high standing, it's crescendo had been rather grotesque.

"Its my understanding that you are known to the Imp, yes?" Cersei tilted her head, her voice sounded coldly disinterested even to her own ears.

"He personally required my services twice Your Grace, the third-" The whore kept her blue eyes focused solely on the wide table in front of her.

"I am well aware of the events you speak of, and they are not of my concern" Cersei snapped icily, interrupting the other woman mid-sentence. She was still tasking to guide Joffrey away from the spiteful path he was threatening to walk down, her personal delegation called for subtly on her part, any wrong steps would only lead her eldest to act out.

"Did the Dwarf show you any particular favour?" The Queen Regent's spies had already gathered much information regarding the whore's liaisons with the Imp. Cersei knew that Tyrion had given Ros a Lannister pendant, with a lion's head incised on the face of the adornment. Disgust burned through her veins like fresh hemlock. Her father, Tywin Lannister, had once told her that the Lannister pendants were only gifted to those held very dear to their great house. It was an age-old tradition, respected and upheld by every generation of Lannister's dating back to the days of Lann the Clever, founder of their House. The imp might as well spat on her family's name by giving the whore one of their revered adornments.

"He...g-gave me a necklace, back in the North" Ros stuttered. Cersei's upper lip curved into a snarl, however her annoyance wasn't aimed at the whore, in fact she was rather pleased the redhead had told her the truth, the action paved it's way towards the next foothold of her game with the Imp. Her succeeding objective would be to discover how much the Imp cared for his unknown lover, before she perused the servant's identity. And she knew it to be a serving girl as her many eyes had reported that the Dwarf hadn't entered a single whorehouse since arriving in King's Landing.

"Why did you relocate in the South?..." She already knew the answer, so she saw no need to listen to Ros' response, the whore's mere existence was enough to irk her, listening to the peasant's babbling was simply uncalled for. Every commoner, Northerner or Southerner, was suffering with recent developments. Fortunately she had already placed a new system for her people in the South, they weren't as prosperous as they had been, but they had enough to get by. And that was all they deserved, at least until they ceased their support of those ridiculous rumours surrounding her children's legitimacy.

"...I have a task for you _Ros..." _The Whore's name left a bad taste in her mouth, she didn't trust many people, but whores were even more untrustworthy than the vultures she was surrounded with. Especially in the Capital, the heart of secrecy and scheming.

"...Accomplish this assignment discreetly, efficiently, and without complaint and I will make you one of the richest whores in the city. Fail to do so however, and I will ensure that no one will ever discover your corpse, not even the crows will find you. Understand?" Cersei arched her eyebrow as her signature smirk drifted into place.

"I u-u-understand Your Grace" Ros nodded enthusiastically, fear motivated the redhead's swift response.

"I sincerely doubt that..." Cersei drawled, her voice dripped with cold malicious intent.

* * *

><p>"...Tell me" Cersei demanded as she stalked down the hall with The Hound a step behind her, enough distance to show the difference in status but close enough that none would overhear their conversation if they were unfortunate enough to encounter the vultures.<p>

"She seemed to be especially surprised and...jubilant" Sandor rumbled, his hesitance over the last word bespoke of his unfamiliarity with the emotion. Cersei disguised her smile behind her coldhearted exterior as they continued down the corridor, passing servants and nobles in equal proportion.

"...And?" Cersei prompted, the Queen Regent's full lips didn't seem to move as she spoke in a hushed tone.

"I have never seen anyone smile like that" Sandor was baffled by Sansa's reaction to her gift, she could tell by his bewildered tone. She herself had been mildly uncertain about the flower, presenting gifts to her lovers had always seemed redundant, an unnecessary act and a bothersome one at that. But with Sansa, she found herself desiring to bathe her lover in all manner of trinkets, it was entirely possible, and she had more than enough finance to do so.

"Her smile should have been mine..." Cersei grumbled irritably, a stab of envy pierced her stomach. She loved looking upon her lover as the younger woman smiled, the beautiful expression held more worth than Casterly Rock, far more beautiful than watching the sunrise from the battlements surrounding Blackwater bay. And she had missed it while playing her game of wits.

"...No matter..." Cersei sighed regretfully. There would be many more occasions for her to witness her favourite sight in all of Westeros.

"Be sure that the whore doesn't emerge until I require her, and have Ser Boros deliver my 'invitation' to the Imp. Afterwards return to me" Cersei ordered as she drew closer to Joffrey's personal chambers.

"Yes Your Grace..." The Hound lingered by her side, his eyes trained on the door in front of them.

"Something else Sandor?" Cersei tilted her head up towards him, the abrasive, pink scar that covered half his face stood out plainly in the midday sun, glaring in from the windows on either side of the wide hall.

"When I was with Lady Stark earlier the royal children expressed a want to see their mother" Sandor reported, almost nervously.

"To display their new pets no doubt..." Cersei smiled, a trader had arrived very early that every morning, with him was a single, moderately sized wooden container. Inside were the two kittens her children had requested of her days previous. A young male, utterly devoid of colour save his narrow turquoise eyes and his pink nose, curled beside him, almost on top of the smaller male kitten had been his litter-mate. A golden brown female kitten, baring the same coloured eyes.

"...I do wonder how Duchess received them..." Cersei smirked. The young wolf pup had never been exposed to other animals save the pesky squirrel out in the gardens and the occasional butterfly. Sansa's loyal companion had yet to catch either.

"...Alas it will have to wait, you're dismissed Sandor" Cersei turned her head away from her liege subject as she reached for the gilded door handle, the hulking form of her guard disappeared back down the hall. She never knocked before entering a chamber regardless of who it belonged to, especially not one of her children's rooms. She frowned when her jade coloured eyes were unable to locate her eldest son within the luxuriously furnished chamber.

"Joffrey?" Cersei called out as she pushed the oak door closed behind her. Her acute sense of hearing detected nothing. No movements, save her own. No faint breathing, save her own. She stood still for long moments. Joffrey had said nothing about watching the games atop the ramparts, nor had he mentioned any other sports he would be attending. He was supposed to be inside his chambers, his historical tutor would be arriving within the hour but she was not content to wait. She had other, arguably more important, matters to attend. She scowled to herself just as the chamber door swung open, she turned on her heel, fully expecting to find her son sauntering into the room. It wasn't Joffrey. It was no one of note. A plain serving girl about twelve years of age, with long mousy brown hair and dull green eyes.

"Where is the King?..." Cersei snapped, stalking towards the girl, presumably going about her cleanup duties. The maid stuttered fearfully as the Queen Regent drew closer, a lioness closing in on her prey. Waves of annoyance poured of Cersei's body, sheathed in a typical Lannister red dress, the neckline was cut low enough to display a modest amount of cleavage.

"...Speak up girl or I'll see to it that you never utter another word" Cersei hissed.

"T-the king...he is...o-out in the...city" Cersei growled low in her throat as she prowled out of Joffrey's chamber, she could hear the girl hyperventilating behind her as she stalked through the halls. Sandor was suddenly at her side, his abrupt appearance didn't have the unsettling effect it held on others.

"The Kingsguard..." Cersei began. She couldn't bring herself to entertain what could be happening to her son at that very moment. She had warned him not to venture out into King's Landing, her family were not favoured among the common people as a result of Eddard Stark's vile suspicions.

"They are still within the Keep, Your Grace. His majesty refused their attendance..." Sandor's dry lips formed a tight line.

"Stupid boy..." Cersei snapped, as panic seized her chest in its cold fist, worry pressed down on her slender shoulders threatening to crush her under its weight "...Something else?" She muttered as their pace increased simultaneously. They were almost at the entrance to the Red Keep.

"Apparently the King requested the company of Lady Stark and the younger royal children" Sandor whispered. The Queen Regent's eyes went wild with the one emotion she hadn't felt the instant she knew Joffrey may be in danger._ Sheer. Acidic. Fear._

* * *

><p>During her seventeen years as Queen, Cersei had seen all manner of gatherings. Familial. Political. Sermons. And so on. However she had never been so close to a riot. She stood tall a matter of metres away from the common people of King's Landing, flanked protectively by six elite soldiers of the Kingsguard, each man had drawn his sword, they wouldn't be a complete unit until Jaime returned, they positioned themselves to form a V shape around her, allowing them to protect her from all angles.<p>

"Hound remain with me. Ser Mandon I want this disorder settled" Cersei ordered in a lethally calm voice, she only wished she was as composed internally. The five gold plated guards, led by Ser Mandon, charged into the sea of barbaric rioters.

"Come we must find them before this escalates" And it would intensify, the show of violence from Ser Mandon and the guards would attract the crowd's attention. Allowing the Queen Regent and The Hound some time to locate the royal children and Sansa.

"You could be harmed Your Grace" Sandor protested.

"With the mood I'm in?..." The Queen Regent's sinister smirk put the image of lioness on the hunt in the Hound's mind's eye "...I welcome the attempt" Cersei hissed as she hurried towards a more secluded niche, formed by the various stone buildings. She cast her eyes around the area as she moved from section to section, Sandor close on her heels with his massive broadsword drawn and ready to do battle. The angry shouting behind her increased as time slipped through her fingers. Her breathing grew shallow as she searched frantically, not from exertion, from worry. What if...

"Mother?!" Cersei glanced up to see Joffrey rushing towards her with Myrcella and Tommen in tow, her relief at finding her children seemingly unharmed was short lived.

"Where is Sansa?..." Cersei demanded of Joffrey as her youngest ran towards her, throwing their arms around her slender waist and squeezing her tightly with a desperate need for comfort. She dropped to her knees in the dirt, uncaring that the expensive silk of her dress would be ruined. She threw her arms around her obviously shaken children, tears streamed down their angelic faces. She wanted to comfort them, soothe their fears. Maternal instinct demanded it. But she had to be sure her lover was safe first.

"...Joffrey?!" Cersei snarled, she could hear the desperation in her voice but she didn't care if Joffrey recognised the emotion in her voice.

"We were attacked by four brutes, they only wanted Sansa so I let them have her. Its of no concern, I am safe that is all that matters. Now we should return to the Keep" Cersei had never wanted to feel the blood of her own staining her hands, the imp was of no significance, but in that moment. She could fully envision Joffrey's slender throat trapped between her elegant hands, feeling the warmth of his blood flowing from imaginative wounds inflicted by her. She could see the life draining from his eyes, fleeing in the face of her anger. She shook herself, unable to dispel the murderous thoughts entirely. But enough for her to regain her footing, Tommen and Myrcella clung to her, two little lion cubs seeking the security their mother lioness.

"Take them back to the Keep" Cersei instructed Sandor, already prying the claws of her children from around her waist.

"I should be at your side Your Grace" The Hound argued. She would allow him this small defiance, she didn't have time to scold his words. She needed to get to Sansa.

"I am your Queen, you will do as I command. Send the soldiers down when you return" Cersei encouraged her frightened cubs towards The Hound's heavy bulk.

"Your Grace..." Sandor reached behind him, producing a seven inch dagger, it was crude in its simplicity, this was a weapon created for one purpose and one purpose alone. To kill.

"Protect my cubs, Hound" Cersei glared at Joffrey as she passed him, following in the direction she seen her children emerge from. The shouting of the rioters eventually grew quieter as she hurried away from the scene. Only to be replaced from a much more terrifying sound. Screams. Screams she knew. She had heard them multiple times before, always she had been the one eliciting them, but they always been filled to bursting with pleasure. Heart thundering in her chest, she rounded a single stone corner. The sight that met her made her blood run cold with fear and hot with rage.

Adrenaline urged her forward, rational thought wasn't needed. The element of surprise was on her side as she ghosted forward like a wraith. She couldn't quite recall what her body was doing. A harsh male grunt accompanied the sensation of warm, thick blood covering her hand. She blinked slowly, reality greeted her with the sight of her hand, Sandor's dagger clenched in her fist, the weapon was buried inside the carotid artery of Sansa's attacker. She glanced to the right, her eyes glowed with calculative bloodlust, she smirked at the second attacker as she jerked the dagger out of her victim's throat. The remaining three fumbled on their knees, their disorganisation allowed her to shift forward effortlessly. She found the second attacker's jugular with her murderous eyes, blood sprayed like a fountain as she buried Sandor's dagger into the second attacker's jugular vein. Blood stained the front of her dress, it coated her pale neck and chest while staining the ends of her silky blonde mane. She felt an unmistakably male hand graze her hip, she moved without thinking, she brought her hand under the arm suddenly encircling her waist and thrust the dagger straight into her almost-attacker's abdomen, dragging the weapon to the side aggressively, he crumpled to his knees with a cry of surprised pain, she had the satisfaction of watching him attempt to hold his guts inside of him as she searched for the last of her prey. The fourth attacker had risen to his feet, he backed away like a frightened dog. Her lion's eyes narrowed dangerously, she had every intention of dealing the same judgement on this man as she had his 'friends', element of surprise or no.

"...Cersei?" Sansa's voice called to her over a wide rift, her upper lip curved into a snarl of frustration. She finally ripped her attention away from her prey, her eyes cleared of their madness the second she found her lover. Her reprieve was temporary. Blood oozed from a small cut marring Sansa's left eyebrow, bruises were painfully evident on the insides of her lover's thighs.

"Your Grace!" Sandor was suddenly standing by her side, he must of carried her children in his massive arms as he ran like the great Targaryen dragons of old were snapping at his heels to return so quickly. She was frozen with her need for retribution. This snivelling bastard had hurt her lover, tried to rape her SheWolf. She would have him screaming apologies before the day was done, then she would finish her hunt.

"This one is coming with us" Cersei hissed, she barely recognised her own voice as she spoke. The Hound growled low in his throat as he moved forward, Cersei fell to her knees beside her fallen lover, with a shaking hand she jerked the skirts of Sansa's dress down to preserve the redhead's modesty. She leaned down to nuzzle Sansa's porcelain cheek like the lioness she was often compared to, she sighed as she felt her lover's arms snake around her slender shoulders tightly. A glance out the corner of her eye showed her, The Hound gripping the man's throat in one of his large paws, lifting the fourth attacker off his feet by several inches. As Sandor pulled back his right fist and promptly drove it into the side of the would be rapist's face, forcing the attacker into unconsciousness, the Queen Regent sought out the softness of her lover's lips with her own. She licked the seam of Sansa's mouth before she crushed their lips together, much harder than she'd intended. She prayed Sansa wouldn't ask her to stop because she didn't know how. She nipped at Sansa's succulent lower lip with her teeth, demanding to be let into the sweet tasting cavern of her lover's mouth. The sound of Sansa's moan accompanied a faint whine, not belonging to her lover. She lifted her head in suspicion, instantly her eyes landed on the small form of the redhead's wolf. Duchess stood beside them, whining pathetically, her front, right paw was lifted off the ground, because of injury?. Cersei was unable to keep from brushing her lips across her lover's once more before she straightened regretfully. She reached out with one hand, sinking her long fingers into thick white-grey fur, gripping the pup by the ruff of her neck. She lifted the young wolf off the ground and her injured paw, she carefully avoided the affectionate lick the pup tried bestowing upon her as she tucked the wolf under her arm.

"Let us return home" Cersei extended her hand to her lover, she winced inwardly at the streaks of blood staining her entire hand as well as her dress sleeve, would Sansa to wary of her now?. Her worries were unfounded. The redhead didn't even seem to notice the evidence of her recent blood shed as she slipped her palm into the Queen Regent's. They climbed to their feet just as Sandor flung the limp body of Sansa's attacker over his broad shoulder like a sack of grain. Cersei refused to relinquish the physical connection with her lover as she stalked out into the open, Duchess tucked under her arm and Sandor bringing up the rear. She cared not what the soldiers would think as they watched their Queen, drenched in blood from neck to toe, walking through the city, cradling the hand of her 'captive' in her own and holding a young wolf. She needed to feel the softness of Sansa's skin against hers, to assure herself that the worst was over. She only hoped the trauma of her SheWolf's attack would dissipate faster than her own concern. She would never forget that fear for as long as she lived and couldn't bare the thought of Sansa carrying the remnants of this day.

"Forgo the Dark cells Sandor, take that worthless bastard directly to the 'chamber'" It took her several moments to find her voice, when she did, she knew that The Hound would know what she meant. Sansa's attacker would be taken to the royal torture chamber upon their arrival.

"May I start work immediately Your Grace?" The Hound's voice took on a dangerous edge.

"You may" She would stay with Sansa, she began caressing her lover's erratic pulse point with her thumb as they made their way back to the Red Keep. She barely even noticed the rioters being roughly subdued by her soldiers as she passed them, all that mattered to her in that moment was ensuring that Sansa, Tommen and Myrcella were comforted.

* * *

><p>"These bruises will heal in good time Your Grace" Maester Pycelle informed the tense Queen Regent, still sheathed in her blood stained attire.<p>

"Was she raped Maester?" Cersei bit out. After returning to the Keep she had led her lover to the redhead's chamber, ordering a near by soldier to escort Maester Pycelle to Sansa's room while Sandor carried his evening entertainment to the dungeons. It was all she could do not to forcibly remove Maester Pycelle's assessing hands from her lover's form.

"No Your Grace..." Pycelle was quick to affirm, masterfully concealing her sigh of relief behind a disinterested expression "...Are you hurt, Majesty?"

"No" Cersei snapped bluntly.

"Oh I just assumed..." Pycelle began, running his eyes over her body, even with the deep Lannister red of her dress, it was clear for all to see that she was soaked in blood. The silk of her dress clung to her skin uncomfortably.

"Tread carefully Maester, it would be embarrassing for one of your rank to reach the wrong conclusion" Cersei drawled. Her words were a warning, simple as that. Rumours of her 'disarray' were already circling the Keep like wildfire through dry grass. If asked she would be forced to claim that it was her children she'd found in danger. What she would tell Joffrey was left to simmer in the back of her mind. She didn't want to lie, she wanted it well known what she would do to those that attempted to hurt her lover.

"Of course, does it please Your Grace to note all three of the royal children are unharmed?" Cersei's eyes flashed a dangerous, glowing, green. What type of inane question was that?. She would always be grateful to the Gods for sparing her children harm as she would damn them for allowing Joffrey to leave the Keep without her being notified.

"Of course it pleases me..." She snapped "...Was there something else?, another needless question to display your idiocy? Or better still, are you going ask me whether or not I intend to have everyone of those insolent bastards in chains?" That was what Maester Pycelle wished to know so that he may inform the other Maester's of her 'unfair treatment' of those fully 'justified people'. They were determined to undermine her at every possibility.

"...Well..." Pycelle lowered his head nervously.

"Go bore one of your whores will you" Cersei snarled. Pycelle flushed indignantly as he reached for a brown leather satchel.

"Good day Lady Stark" Pycelle inclined his head before taking his much anticipated leave. Cersei trailed after him just to lock the door after his departure. She turned on her heel and returned to her lover's side, she remained on her feet as to avoid ruining the basic white bedsheets and to prevent herself from acting out her body's demands. Due to adrenaline or fear she wasn't certain but, she wanted Sansa's naked body beneath hers. She needed to touch every inch of her lover's flawless skin to assure herself that her SheWolf was unharmed. But Sansa needed rest more than she needed to relieve her desires.

"What are you going to do to them?" Sansa murmured quietly after a moment.

"I'm going to have them all killed Sansa..." Cersei answered brusquely. Cursing herself when her SheWolf flinched.

"...I have been far more lenient than the Targaryen's would have been in such circumstances. This latest charade cannot go unpunished" She tilted her head curiously as Sansa's nibbled on her lower lip.

"They're starving Cersei" Sansa murmured thoughtfully.

"Had they not just endangered everyone I hold dear, I would've continued my attempts to see them fed and prosperous. No longer. I will not assist peasants who, at every opportunity, seek to disobey their King" Cersei growled. The lowering of her lover's striking blue-grey eyes had her frowning. It occurred to her that she didn't truly know how the riot started, she shifted on her feet uncomfortably, maybe she should refrain from making any judgements until she had statements of events.

"Something you wish to tell me?" Cersei titled her head to the side.

"Nothing. The King is to be obeyed in all things, any-" Her lover sounded like a mindless courtier. She didn't like the mechanical quality of Sansa's voice as she spoke meaningless words, not when she had grown accustomed to her SheWolf's melodious song.

"How many times must I tell you to put voice to your thoughts with me?..." Cersei interrupted softly "...I am curious to know why you seem so concerned with the common people, when they..." Rage manifested in the pit of her stomach. She knew precisely what would've happened to her lover had she not arrived in time to shed blood. But instead of condemning the small people like she should, Sansa was concerning herself with their contentment?.

"When those you love are hurting you do what you can to help them, those people and their families are dying of starvation. Joffrey was..." Sansa's eyes darted around the chamber as thought she expected the King to emerge from the shadows.

"What was he doing?" Cersei coaxed her lover gently, she dreaded the answer, but she had to know, was it Joffrey's fault?.

"When approached by the common people, he stated that he didn't care for their problems nor their close proximity to his person. He insisted that their only purpose was to see him fully content and if it amused him to see them starving then they should give thanks they were carrying out his will" Cersei closed her eyes with a small sigh. Her temples began to throb painfully as she considered her options. What could she do?. The people hated Joffrey, their misconceptions of his birth were only spurned by his arrogant and cruel behaviour, the Western lords only showed him loyalty as to gain patronage from both her son and her father. As for Stannis Baratheon and House Stark, they were fully prepared to do battle as so have Joffrey removed from power. And damn her for so much as thinking it, but she understood why, Joffrey showed himself to be less and less of a King and more of a petty child with everyday that passed. It left her with only two paths. Continuing to protect Joffrey's claim to the Iron Throne or name herself the sole authority in the Seven Kingdoms, to claim power for herself.

"You should rest now little SheWolf. I will remain with you until you sleep soundly, then I must see Tommen and Myrcella" Though it would chill her like death itself to be parted from her lover. She watched as Sansa curled on her side, before she moved forward to pull the plain sheets up to the younger woman's slender shoulders. She couldn't even bring herself to curse the lack of furnishings in Sansa's chamber as she settled on the floor, leaning her back against the cold stone wall, there was a basic wooden chair in the far corner of the room, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Sansa's side long enough to retrieve it.

"How is Duchess?" Sansa murmured tiredly. Cersei partly smiled and partly grimaced, the pup had tried on several occasions to lick her affectionately as she'd carried the whelp back to the Keep. Sansa's had insisted the pup stay with Tommen and Myrcella once a Maester had declared the pup's front paw was suffered minor bruising.

"Irritating..." Cersei drawled in mock contempt, savouring Sansa's short but lilting laugh "...She will be fully recovered in a matter of days" Cersei assured her lover, watching intently as Sansa's eyes drifted closed. A soft pang in her chest had her reaching for her lover's graceful hand, she quietly prayed for Sansa's dreams to be pleasant and not horrid reminders of the day. Squeezing her lover's hand gently, she let her eyes feast on Sansa's beauty as her thoughts ran like wild horses. Too many to count. Too many to truly consider. But one was clear at the forefront of her mind;

_She already had every intention taking Joffrey's future wife from him, in addition, could bring herself to steal her son's Throne?_

**AN: Feedback is always appreciated. The next Chapter should be up quite soon, I hope ;p **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing associated with the show or the books. Only the mistakes are mine ;p

**Chapter Seven.**

Cersei rested her elegant hands on her slender hips as she stared up at the Iron throne. The seat of power was forged out of hundreds of melted down swords, belonging to the Lords who once swore loyalty and fealty to King Aegon the Conqueror of House Targaryen. The prestige belonging to impressive and imposing throne was only matched by the discomfort one felt while sitting upon it. According to Robert, she smirked.

"They sleep?" Cersei tilted her head. The Hound was standing just behind his liege Lady and to the Queen Regent's right hand side.

"Fitfully" Sandor's deep baritone almost echoed through the desolate throne room, lit only by the torches mounted on the great pillars supporting the ceiling, the flickering flames offered orange shadows as an inadequate substitute to the sun. One often felt like an insignificant ant when standing inside the grand chamber, simply because of the vast furnishings and intricate details.

"In the morning, just before the dawn, you must be prepared to escort Sansa back to her chamber through the tunnels beneath the Keep. I cannot risk my cubs awaking while my SheWolf is still in my bed..." She murmured gently. She was certain that she was alone with her hulking guard in the throne room, but one could never be too cautious in King's Landing. There was a great risk to allowing her lover and her children to share her bed, Tommen and Myrcella may accidentally reveal the fact, but she couldn't be without the three tonight nor they without her. Not after the day's events. She would lose her sanity if she attempted to sleep without knowing that they were all safe and settled.

"Of course Your Grace" The hound rumbled by her side. Sighing gently Cersei inched towards the dais before her, the royal red carpet beneath her feet stretched from the entrance to the very back of the stone hall behind the Iron Throne.

"The morrow will be extremely busy Sandor, but I want you to remain at Sansa's side while she cares for my children. I will have Ser Mandon and Ser Boros confine Joffrey to his rooms for the foreseeable once his meeting with the nobles is concluded..." Cersei sighed regretfully. Mentally planning out her various meetings and the like prematurely. A tight band of tension constricted around her forehead. A wave of fatigue hit her directly in her chest.

"...That is all for tonight. We shall convene once we have both rested. Go" She waved her hand dismissively. The Hound inclined his head before he backed away from her, he only turned his back on her when she glanced away, it was an insult to display one's back to the Queen Regent.

Only after Sandor's astonishingly light footsteps faded away all together, did she finally take her place on the Throne. The thick lion pelt coat she wore over her Lannister red silk gown offered her more than sufficient protection from the glacial iron. She stared out at the massive Throne room, imagining the chamber filled with all the pompous noble men and women that would all gather here at the heart of the Red Keep in the morning for their daily audience with the King. She found herself musing whether or not they had heard of Joffrey's brash words spoken to the people before the rioting began. Of course they had. The Gods despised House Lannister, why would they spare the pride of Lions this fresh thorn in their paws?.

Her loud sigh echoed through the Throne room, a sound of abject frustration and exhaustion. There were too many threats outside the walls of King's Landing for her to combat any dangers within her domain, she couldn't fight a war on two fronts, but that scenario was becoming more and more likely with Joffrey abusing his power and refusing to be the King she had once suspected he could be.

She freely admitted to herself that her eldest son was beginning to disappoint her in his demeanour. Joffrey was failing to fill the hole that his late father had left behind, granted Robert had left the vast majority of politics in her hands while he pursued other activities more suited to his capabilities but at least her husband had been adored by his subjects. She didn't even feel much in the ways of devotion for her eldest son anymore, not after the day's riots, he had knowingly endangered his siblings lives and that of her lover. She was beginning to tire of protecting Joffrey's claim to the Throne when he did nothing to further his own cause.

Would the situation worsen if she denounced Joffrey?. She boasted a legitimate claim to power through marriage and the children she had produced, she ruled in all but name at present, she had the loyalty of the City watch and even the Kingsguard, swaying the fealty of the nobles wouldn't take much more than a word or two. The only person she risked angering was Joffrey, and he wouldn't be able to fight for his titles if she seized power and appropriated complete control over all the Seven Kingdoms. The dull pain at her temples increased, the blunted throbbing had her reaching up to pinch the bridge of her delicate nose between her thumb and forefinger in her attempts to ward off the blunt affliction. She couldn't bring herself to think of the matter anymore, she didn't have the will when all she desired in the world was to curl up in her bed with her lover in her arms and her younger children close enough to protect from night-terrors.

* * *

><p>"...This was sent to you by the King's Hand Your Grace" Cersei looked up from the letter she was composing to find Lancel nervously standing in front of her desk, Ser Arys stood beside her undistinguished cousin. She had only granted him knighthood as to avoid tripping over him in his attempts to serve her. Even Duchess held more dignity than the fool.<p>

"Tyrion isn't the King's Hand. Leave it there and get out..." Cersei snapped coldly. Lancel's had shook as he placed the folded parchment on the corner of her desk, atop the rest of her many, far more crucial, missives.

"...Something else?" Cersei hissed when she realised her moron of cousin lingered like a horrid stench. She forced herself to argue the merits of having her guard throw her annoyance out of the window behind her. As she glared at the stuttering man before her all she could think of to save his worthless existence was the knowledge that Sansa and her children were out in the gardens, below the golden pane, she wouldn't willingly expose them to more violence. Lancel was a lucky swine indeed.

"The King wants you beside him in court" It was Ser Arys that finally blurted out the missive instead of Lancel. Skilfully concealing her frown of confusion at Joffrey's location behind an icy mask of impassivity. Their meeting with the nobles wasn't due to start for another hour at the very least.

"I told you to get out did I not?..." Cersei cast Lancel a disinterested look. It was far more dangerous to earn such an impartial expression, than a murderous glance, from the Queen Regent for it meant that she held no expectations of her victim, judging them utterly useless in her eyes and therefore wordlessly installing a limit to their life-expectancy.

"...Both of you. Out. Before I decide that there is an extra cell in the dungeons" She snapped. Rolling her eyes in exasperation as Lancel and Ser Arys made a mockery of themselves before her. They looked like two bow-legged, newborn deer as they scrambled to swiftly flee her chamber. Snatching The Imp's message up in her hand she broke the Lannister seal adorning the front before she scanned the graceless penmanship embellishing the page. She grimaced at the reminder, she was to dine alone with The Imp that evening to discuss the City defences. She would have to think of a path to send the dwarf tumbling down, her plans were already being solidified, she didn't want anymore, much less Tyrion, disrupting her arrangements. Raising the light parchment over the small lit candle beside her, used to produce the wax that sealed all of her documents. She smirked as she watched it begin to burn into nothingness, the unique scent of burning paper filled her delicate nose, she felt a slight twinge in her chest as she observed the small demolition. If Stannis Baratheon managed to take King's Landing it would be her that was burned. Dispelling the thought for the folly it was, she blew forcefully, extinguishing the consuming flame just as it's dangerous heat drew near to her long slender, fingers. Raising up out of her high-backed chair, she smoothed her hands over the front of her crimson coloured dress, one last glance was cast at her unfinished missive. Her request from the Greyjoys of Pike would have to wait until she had collared her self-important cub.

* * *

><p>"...Have they asked many questions?" Cersei murmured to her younger lover. She had intended to stalk directly passed the gardens without so much as a sideways glance, as she would have done two months ago, but the call of her SheWolf and her youngest children had been too compelling for her to resist.<p>

"They were curious to know why I wasn't there when they awoke" Sansa murmured. The Queen Regent and her lover were stood close to the tree where Duchess' pesky squirrel called home, the little creature stared down at them inquisitively from a low hanging tree branch. The Royal children were sat around a circular table, a few metres away, numerous sheets of parchment littered the oak surface. Stood behind them, shielding them in his impressive shadow, was The Hound. On the vivid green grass, curled around The Hound's steel plated boots, lay Sansa's loyal companion. Cersei would always been secretly proud of the little grey and white pup, after discovering that she had injured her front paw attempting to protect her mistress during the riots.

"They asked as much this morning..." Cersei said quietly. Instinctively aware of the many eyes boring into her back, she could sense the various spies working in the gardens creeping ever closer to her. She had known it was a potentially dire risk to allow her children to share her bed along with her lover, but they had come to her complaining of night-terrors, she couldn't have sent them away, back to their own beds. So she had let her cubs curl into the warm arms of her SheWolf, their nursemaid, for the night. They had awoken on three occasions, before she had the chance to soothe them back into sleep however, she had found Sansa whispering gentle nothings into their ears.

"...Worry not. They are under the impression that you were there to care for them in the night..." Cersei spoke in a careful tone. She had convinced her children just so, her cubs were so innocent, wonderfully naïve. They hadn't asked why Sansa had been in her bed before they'd had arrived unescorted in her chamber. The sharp sound of a branch snapping caught her attention, she narrowed her eyes on the servant, coming far too near for her comfort.

"...Even so..." She continued once the spy had fled towards a safer location in the rose scented gardens.

"...It is not a gamble I can take again" Not for now at least. If she were to seize power, she would no longer have to conceal her preferences nor the truth of Sansa's real status. Cersei startled for a moment, her blood ran cold then suddenly burned red hot, if she were to unveil the gender her lovers, then she might just be able to convince the nest of vultures and snakes of her children's legitimacy. But by doing so, if she were to openly claim Sansa as her concubine then she could potentially endanger her lover. Many held grudges against her, the title of Queen may protect her and her offspring, not her SheWolf. She stowed away her new found discovery away pending further, in depth, investigation and consideration.

"I will be unable to dine with you tonight for reasons I cannot divulge..." Cersei wrenched herself free of her thoughts, finding her lover frowning ever so slightly. She restrained herself from shifting closer to the redhead, knowing that she would soon have to pull herself away from her lover entirely to grace the court.

"...What is it?" Cersei asked. She had no conjecture as to when she had trained herself to sense when her lover was worried but she utilised the cognition well.

"Have you determined what the fate of the rioters will be?" Sansa nibbled on her lover lip. Cersei smirked despite the many devious eyes lingering on her. Her SheWolf's blue-grey eyes hadn't wavered, like they would have a month previous, while asking her question.

"Death..." Cersei answered bluntly. They may be starving and they may have been provoked, but peasants did not hold the right to cause such damage to the King's property, especially while their Lord, along with his siblings, were in close proximity. She would have their lives for that alone. Heedless of the fact, her lover had nearly been raped. The fourth attacker had already been dealt with, she had been unable to carry out the penalty herself, as she had been with her recovering SheWolf, however she had it on Sandor's word that the bastard had screamed for mercy until his throat bled. The head of her lover's assailant now graced the wall of traitors where it would remain until it was as putrid as his intended crime.

"...My answer doesn't please you" Cersei sighed regretfully as she watched Sansa's head lower. Perhaps she could think of some other punishment to befit their crime if only to satisfy her lover. She didn't understand Sansa's compassion for the traitors but it was endearing. Over forty five men were contained within the dark cells, she could devise a payment worse than death in some eyes. Her signature smirk slowly played at the corner of her mouth.

"The people are starving Cersei" Sansa murmured. Repeating her argument from the previous night.

"That doesn't justify it in the slightest. But they are fortunate that you seem determined to aid them..." Cersei murmured.

"...I won't see you again today until sunset. Be safe" As much as it pained her to leave her lover's soothing presence. Duty won her inner battle with desire. She needed to remove Joffrey from the public eye less he make some other disastrous decision.

* * *

><p>"...Mother, I cannot determine if I want the prisoners beheaded quickly or I want them gutted slowly" Her son's glee over an execution was sickening. Cersei didn't shy away from death and on occasion she relished it, but she didn't kill simply because she could. She didn't look at the nobles parting to let her pass by, Ser Mandon and Ser Boros, standing just in front of the Iron Throne nervously avoided her icy gaze as she stalked closer.<p>

"The King has a flair for creativity..." Cersei feigned a proud smile that she knew disgusted the nobles gathered in the throne room. They blamed her for Joffrey's behaviour. They may be right, she had always over indulged him but she was doing all she could to stop anymore calamities. She climbed the dais until she stood at her son's side next to the imposing Iron Throne, she forced herself not to withdraw her hand when Joffrey reached for her. She still couldn't forgive him for endangering his brother and sister, and she still wanted his blood for leaving Sansa to be raped and Gods only knew what else.

"...But you have much to learn my son..." She lowered her voice until only Joffrey could hear her words in the crowded court.

"...When ruling a Kingdom you will soon find that to be successful one must keep the majority happy. I will demonstrate if you wish" Cersei offered, acknowledging that she was manipulating her own son to enforce her will. With Joffrey's eager nod granting her permission, she turned to address the captain of the City watch. Fire burned in her jade coloured eyes when she found the Imp's Sell-sword in the place of Lord Commander Janos Slynt. Another insult from the Imp. _Bronn _wasn't even clad in uniform, he looked like a commoner, but then that was the only company the Dwarf could keep, often with money.

"Escort the prisoners to the Wall. They will join the Night's watch or they will be gutted like the treasonous pigs they are" Cersei hissed. She would make the Imp regret this dearly.

"Your Grace" She sneered in disdain as she watched the Sell-Sword move to carry out her order.

"But I wanted their blood!" Joffrey snarled, coming to his feet angrily, she didn't even blink in reaction.

"You have studied the conditions at the Wall Joffrey, these prisoners will either be butchered by Wildlings or by their own brothers should they attempt to flee the cold. Misery will be all they know for rest of their lives. And Lord Commander Mormont gains the reinforcements he needs" She whispered into Joffrey's ear, ignoring the looks they were both receiving from the nobles.

"But I won't witness their pain" Joffrey complained.

"We have more important matters my son..." Cersei purred. He wouldn't be witness to anything once he was confined in his chambers. For his own safety and for that of the peasants.

"Leave. All of you..." Cersei snapped. The nobles scattered as swiftly as they possibly could in either direction.

"...Come Joffrey. I have a gift for you" She gestured for Ser Mandon and Ser Boros to come forth, a pointed look told them to carry out the order silently.

"Good. I have been addressing the court since dawn and it is most burdensome" Joffrey grumbled as he allowed his guards to accompany him out the throne room. Cersei watched as he arrogantly sauntered through the chamber. Reminding herself that it was for the best.

* * *

><p>Cersei stared at the very last of her daily messages, she cursed loud enough to attract The Hound's attention. She had requested his brief attendance in her chamber to finalise plans with their 'guest', before dinner. She knew Sansa would be safe now that Joffrey was confined in his chambers.<p>

"Catelyn Stark has been sent, by her son, to seek an alliance with Renly Baratheon while Robb Stark has achieved another victory over my Lord father's forces at Oxcross." Cersei stoically answered The Hounds unvoiced question. The Westerlands were now, only lightly defended and King's Landing was in peril from a two pronged attack. Pushing her impulsive anger she swiftly began toying with her new knowledge.

"You are not worried Your Grace?" Sandor asked. She laughed maliciously as she stared at the letter from her informant in the Baratheon camp.

"With three ignorant fools all vying for mine and Joffrey's blood?. No. I will simply wait for them to tear each other apart." Cersei leaned back in her high backed chair. The Hound still looked confused. As he was her most loyal and trusted liege subject and he would fight on the front lines in any attack on the Capital. She may as well tell him of her strategy.

"Stannis and Renly mobilise to attack each other, they have large armies so the losses on either side will be vast. While they are at each other's throats. The Stark boy will be left idle without an ally to force my relinquishment of the city and safe return of his sisters..." Cersei smirked at The Hound to grasp the last strands of her thinking.

"...Leaving Lord Tywin to replenish the ranks of his troops. Both Baratheon forces will dwindle with heavy losses, forcing Stannis to hold off his attack on the Capital." Sandor concluded.

"We will have time strengthen our own defences if this manoeuvres the way we need it to..." Cersei said with a satisfied smirk.

"...But we should remain wary. This woman, Melisandre of Asshai, she is more dangerous than Stannis could ever hope to become..." Cersei gazed at the letter in her hand. The only information her spy had been able to report on The Red Woman only detailed the Baratheon soldier's fear of her. Was it baseless or no?.

"...Come Sandor. I'm not playing the Game Of Thrones this night, tonight it is game of wits that keeps me entertained" Cersei stood up, ready for dinner with the Imp. The Hound opened the chamber door for her.

"You know what to do" She murmured to her guard as she stalked past him and out into the hall.

* * *

><p>"I hear you've caged your son like an animal..." Cersei forced her expression into a mask of glacial emptiness as Tyrion guzzled his wine.<p>

"...Is it appropriate to treat the King in such a way?" Tyrion continued.

"You question the Queen Regent?" Cersei drawled icily.

"Father will be most displeased when he hears Joffrey has been removed from public eyes. Oh well, no one could ever live up to his standards, not even us." Tyrion murmured, pouring himself yet more wine. Cersei found herself almost nodding in agreement, Tywin Lannister had always expected his children to be as stoic and as cunning as he. Even she didn't live up to expectation.

"Speak for yourself Imp" Cersei snapped. She had long since come to terms that she would never earn her father's love. She didn't require it anymore.

"Why am I here Cersei?" Tyrion finally asked. Cersei smirked slowly, she knew the Imp was truly confused and she relished having the upper hand.

"I simply wanted to dine with you..." Cersei murmured craftily. There was a thunderous knock on the door just as Tyrion's eyes narrowed on her.

"...Enter" She called out. The door behind her flung open, The Hound all but shoved her 'guest' into the Imp's chamber. Ros managed to catch herself before she fell. She watched the dwarf across from her closely. She was about to make an utter fool out of herself but it would be worth it. She would discover how much Tyrion cared for his discreet lover. If he took the Queen Regent's bait, in an attempt to conceal his lover's identity, it proved some very strong emotions. It Tyrion laughed it off however, she was left with nothing, for the moment.

"I believe you are acquainted..." Cersei murmured. Recognition dawned on the Imp's face as The Hound closed the door behind him, he shifted to pull the whore closer to the candle light. Dark bruises blotched the redhead's face, she hadn't actually had the whore beaten, in reality the 'bruises' were a mixture of dark Kohl combined with a minimal amount of water varnished onto the whore's face.

"...Did you honestly think I wouldn't retaliate?..." Cersei forced artificial rage into her tone. A combination of emotions swirled in Tyrion's eyes. He was panicking.

"...You threatened someone I care for, and now, I going hurt someone _you _love" Just as soon as she discovered who his lover was. She restrained her smirk of satisfaction as Tyrion climbed to his feet, he approached the whore, he whispered something to her before taking his 'reluctant' leave. Cersei reached for her wine glass, she grinned conniving as she slowly finished off her drink, ignoring the other two people in the chamber. She stood up gracefully, her smirk never faltered as she approached The Hound and her 'guest'. She held her hand out to Sandor, he reached into one of the pouches attached to his thick leather belt. Producing a small, sealed, cloth, bag. Filled to bursting with silver coins.

"For you service..." Cersei took the offered bag and extended it towards the whore. Ros' eyes brightened up greedily as she took the presented object.

"...You speak a word of this to anyone, including your master Baelish, and I will personally rip your tongue out before I fulfil my promise. Understand?" Cersei purred lethally, her eyes glowed in the dim light, the sun had already fled from the moon, seeming to make her irises illumine much like a felines' would.

"Yes Your Grace" Ros murmured fearfully.

"Escort our guest through the tunnels and out the Keep" Cersei instructed. She had her weapon against the Imp when the opportunity arose, and it would. Now it was time to ensure the contentment of her own weaknesses.

* * *

><p>Cersei nuzzled her face into the flawlessly pale slender column of her lover's neck, sighing gently. She couldn't bring herself to sleep despite the lulling presence of her SheWolf laying in her arms. She fully expected her children to sneak into her chamber once again. Her arms tightened around the younger woman in her bed, for a moment she considered having the prisoners brought back to King's Landing so she could grant them the death they deserved. Scowling to herself, she slowly stroked the gentle curve of Sansa's hip.<p>

"I have increased the amount of guards searching for your sister..." Cersei murmured. Nipping at Sansa's oval shaped jaw with her perfect teeth.

"...She isn't in the South. Of that I'm sure" She lifted her head as Sansa turned in her arms. They were both clad in silk gowns, the Lannister red bedsheets pulled up to their slender waists.

"Thank you" Sansa smiled softly. Cersei brushed her lips against her lover's forehead gently.

"Your brother moves closer..." Cersei muttered resentfully as she stared into Sansa's blue-grey eyes. She had always known the day would come when she was faced with having her SheWolf taken from her. But she had never anticipated her disinclination to do so. Even when Jaime's life depended on her safely handing over the Stark girls. Sansa remained quiet, her beautiful body tensed nervously.

"...He will take you home soon" And she would be left alone. Pain stabbed her through the chest, causing agony so acute she winced inwardly. All the power and wealth in the kingdoms wouldn't be able to replace the grievous loss she was faced with. She snuggled closer to her lover's warmth, holding her close to her chest as though the action would prevent what she knew was coming. To keep Sansa and to have Jaime rendered back to House Lannister, she would have to destroy House Stark. The one thing her lover would never forgive her for. She thought back to her half composed letter to the Greyjoys, she had been hesitant to finish it much less have a raven carry it to Pike. But it would grant her time to devise a way to keep her lover.

"...I..." Sansa began to whisper. Cersei's heart leapt into her throat, for a moment she allowed herself to hope her lover would express a desire to stay, with her, at King's Landing. She frowned, it was as though her blood nearly sang at the prospect, that odd fluttery sensation in her stomach, she had learned to associate with Sansa, blossomed. She did all she could to strangle the thought, to crush her erratic emotions. Hope wasn't something she was accustomed to, often because it was never successful.

"You need to rest" Cersei forced herself to say. She couldn't bear to hear how much her lover missed her family, it hurt to know Sansa would run into her family's arms at the first opportunity, and she didn't understand why she was so attached to the younger woman. At times she felt, the only reason she hadn't been buried under the pressure of ruling a land in chaos was because of the respite she found with Sansa and her younger children. But surely the notion was preposterous.

"Yes Your Grace" Cersei frowned at the use of her title. But she had no chance to question her lover's reasoning as Sansa turned once again in her arms. Cersei stared at her lover's graceful back in confusion. Had she been wrong?. She found herself desperately needing to know what her SheWolf had almost whispered to her. She tightened her arms around the younger woman and nuzzled her face back into the crook of Sansa's neck, catching the redhead's sigh. She felt her SheWolf snuggle closer to her beneath the bedsheets. She would send the letter to Pike on the morrow, she would gain the time needed to convince Sansa to stay of her own will.

**AN:** **Feedback?. When the next chapter will be up is anyone's guess now that school is back on D: I'll try to make it quick, but my timetable is not a pretty sight especially when I combine it with my job schedule.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything associated with the show or the books, the only thing I do take credit for are any mistakes ;p

**AN: I cannot apologise enough for the lengthy wait, I did not anticipate it taking _this _long to get the chapter up, but in my defence, school with a side of working part time is a total nightmare :( **

**Chapter Eight.**

Night had settled over the Capital while the Queen Regent went about her daily work, the tedious missives and the like were in an abundance much to her continued vexation, on any other night she would have welcomed an opportunity to burn the tiresome documents. But not this night.

"Seven hells..." Cersei hissed quietly, glaring at the two pristine, sealed letters she had set aside from all the rest. One boasted the sigil of House Greyjoy, the other was unmarked.

Both had insistently kept her sleepless to such an hour, despite the welcoming call of her bed and her lover within. She knew Sansa to be awake still, she was acutely aware of her SheWolf's breathing on the other side of her chamber, decidedly lacking the careless weightlessness of sleep. That and she could detect the constant rustling of her Lannister red bedsheets. As much as she longed to retire from the drudgery of her work, she knew the two missive were exceedingly important, rest wasn't an option for her until she had read them and addressed the issues inside, but she felt so very wary of the words held within. Sighing with resignation, Cersei reached out for the unmarked letter, breaking the red wax seal, she carefully revealed the message, sent to her by her spy in the Baratheon encampments.

A low growl of frustration escaped her lips after she had read and re-read cursed missive, she set the page flat on her desk as she leaned back in her high backed chair, clasping her elegant hands together atop the polished oak, and allotting herself a moment to mull over the new development. She wasn't even aware of wrapping her long slender fingers around the neck of her unopened wine bottle set on the very edge of her desk, preferring to only indulge in alcohol after she had tended to official business, until she heard it shattering against the cold marble floor of her chamber several feet in front of her.

"Cersei...?" Sansa's quiet, almost timid, whisper had her glancing over in the redhead's direction. She mentally condemned her lack of self-control when she caught the worried gleam in her younger lover's soft blue-grey eyes.

"Its nothing. Go to sleep..." Cersei bit out, attempting to keep her frustration with the newest development out of her permanent drawl. She sighed harshly when a curious, almost shy, knock on the locked door caught her attention. She glared at the solid oak across the chamber as a deathly silence drew out, she wouldn't put it passed The Hound to kick the door in if she failed to answer for much longer, but she would welcome the intrusion if only to vent her anger out on someone. Shaking her head at her own thought, she gracefully rose up out of her chair and stalked across her rooms. Twisting the key in the gold lock, she yanked open the door with a glare even the Mad King would know to fear.

"...What?!" Cersei snapped irritably.

"Do you have need of me Your Grace?" Sandor looked over her head to inspect the chamber searching for an intruder no doubt, his dull brown eyes finally landed on the broken glass of the wine bottle, she'd had to prowl around the mess to reach the entrance of her chamber.

"If I had need of you, I would've called for you..." Cersei hissed venomously, her condescending tone was generally reserved for the most incompetent imbeciles that crossed her path, secretly she despised herself for addressing The Hound in such a manner. He was, in faith, the most loyal of her subjects, his value was incalculable and she would never forget that fact. But she would not apologise, her station would not allow it nor would her mood.

"...We are perfectly fine Sandor" Cersei softened her tone, it was the nearest she would ever come to saying those two words she had long ago promised she would never again utter.

"Your Grace" Sandor lowered his head respectfully, conveying his understanding of her unspoken words through his equally unvoiced gesture. Tilting her head, she pushed the door to, and relocked the entranceway, turning on her heel, she stalked back towards her desk. Doing her best to ignore the soft worried look she could feel clinging to her back.

"Go to sleep Sansa" Cersei murmured again gently, she took up her seat behind her desk once more, staring at the one remaining letter. She sighed slowly, her father had always told her to expect the worst of any given situation, not only would it boost the satisfaction gained from the success of a plot or scheme, but it preserved oneself from disappointment. However there was too much tied to the words contained in that missive for her to completely detach herself. The fate of Westeros, the future of House Lannister, the safety of her children, her relationship with Sansa.

Everything

"Come to bed" Sansa whispered. Cersei was too wary and too tense to even consider it. Not now. One letter had produced the executioner and the crowd, would the other offer the block and the axe?. Had the Lioness of House Lannister truly had her last hunt?.

"I cannot, these need addressing" Cersei growled, rubbing her tired eyes with her elegant right hand slowly.

"Rest often assists one's decision making" Sansa offered meekly.

"You should know by now that I do not rest until I am sure of where my next foothold lies." Cersei murmured. Appreciative of her lover's concern, though reluctant to accept the redhead's advice. The forces working against her didn't seem to rest, how could she?.

"Those that do not take respite are doomed to fail" Sansa responded, clasping her pale hands together. Cersei smirked helplessly in response. Her lover was quickly adjusting to speaking her mind, the redhead's wise innocence was reflected in her words and the Queen Regent savoured it like a tonic.

"When you play the Game Of Thrones, you win or you die..." Cersei repeated the words she had told the father to the daughter, curious as to what the younger women would make of them, and wondering if good and noble Eddard had realised the destruction his lies would wrought when he had spouted them. Though in defence of her lover's father, Eddard had only taken up the farce of a cause set by Jon Arryn. Still they caused chaos.

"Reinvigorated eyes will make the cause easier." Sansa insisted. Cersei smiled inwardly, keeping her outward expression neutral was simply something she was accustomed to doing, a trait she had perfected, taught to her by her father. How much progress she had made, that Sansa would feel comfortable making suggestions to her, much less persisting on the path.

"That they will..." Cersei agreed. Sensing the logic within the younger women's words like a lioness detecting her prey in the distance beyond, and noticing a moment too late that Sansa had failed to mention her own brother's fate. Robb Stark was playing the Game just as surely as she was.

"...To bed then, my SheWolf..." The Queen regent purred with a definite cat-like gleam in her eyes. Possessiveness lifted her head within Cersei's chest, purring and roaring with triumph in the same instant. As she once again climbed to her feet, her intent to keep her lover with her for all times increased, burning brighter with each step she took toward Sansa. No matter what was pitched against her, she would overcome it, if only to live out her days with her SheWolf and her children.

"...My Sansa"

* * *

><p>"...I will be imposing conscription for the Lannister armies immediately, ballots will be set up at various points in the City and no man over the age of fifteen is to be exempt..." Cersei informed the Maesters of the Small council, the critical line of her full lips and sceptic gleam in her jade coloured eyes left no room for argument or question. Only nods of agreement and compliance. As was the norm for The Queen Regent's instructions.<p>

"...Further more, the City gates will be closed to all refugees from this instant until I say otherwise..." She continued, subconsciously very aware of the Kingsguard forming a protective semi-circle behind her, she had expected them to redirect their cautionary duties towards her after she had shut Joffrey away from prying eyes, but she found the swiftness of the action a little unnerving. As though they had been waiting, or even praying, that she would take the throne. With the gates closed it meant less potential victims within the City when Stannis attacked, less carnage.

"...In addition, scouts will be sent to scour the coast lines on an hourly basis in preparation for the invasion. Those are my orders, see that they are carried out" Cersei snapped in way of dismissal, well trained dogs that they were, the Maesters all rushed to their feet with abject expressions and courteous words. Cersei ordered the majority of the Kingsguard to serve several mundane purposes throughout the Keep, simply because she detested the crowd of muscular buffoons surrounding her and she knew that they would not be needed. The Hound was far more efficient then they would ever be.

"Summon the head of my household to my chambers and then retire to the gardens" Cersei instructed Sandor as she gained her footing, The Hound was swift to follow her orders, while she lingered in the hall, staring with discreet satisfaction at the empty seat the Imp had failed to fill during the council. She would have a decisive victory in the Game Of Wits by the day's end.

* * *

><p>"It has come to my attention that while I only employ a meagre three hundred and fifty servants in my personal household, the dwindling resources are not reflecting those numbers..." Cersei betrayed none of her annoyance in her expression as she stared across her desk at the head of her retainers. An elderly woman that had attended to her inconsequential matters since she had attained twenty three summers.<p>

"...Do you have anything to impart before I discharged you from your duties..." She wasn't doing this to be cruel. The elderly woman before her could no longer keep pace with the tasks she was required to attend to. The multitude of lines in her face reflected long years of loyal service to the Royal household. Cersei would always appreciate fidelity in whatever manner it came, the woman before her had never once provided her enemies with any information regarding her behaviour and such. It was for that sole reason that in a handful of days, the disadvantaged family of her former head of household, whom the elderly woman lived with, would find a rather large purse sitting on their doorstep filled to bursting with silver coins. The money would keep them fed for two perhaps three years if spent effectively. No one need ever know where it came from.

"...What was that?" Cersei leaned forward in her high-backed chair as the elderly woman whispered quietly, too softly for the Queen Regent to catch the words.

"Your Grace should be aware of...of an i-i-inconsistency within your household" The Elderly woman was close to tears, the brightness of her aged green eyes said as much, but Cersei would not feel guilty for her actions. The woman could no longer work effectively, she would not have the health of her servants deteriorate in her service.

"Whatever do you speak of?" Cersei feigned ignorance, she had suspected as much, though she didn't know the true nature of said repugnance.

"The Lady Stark has come into the acquisition of a Handmaid though I received no informatory from Your Grace" Cersei's eyes flared with demonic light, fire burned through her veins at the notion that someone unknown to her had gotten so close to her lover without her knowledge. For the first time in thirty six years, she felt her cold exterior begin to melt away involuntarily. Claws of rage threatened to shred her disinterested mask apart.

"Who placed her in Lady Stark's service?" Cersei hissed demandingly.

"The King's Hand Your Grace, he advised me not to trouble you with this unimportant matter" True fear began to shine in the former servants eyes, Cersei pushed her chair out roughly, gaining her feet with a cold, disinterested look cast at the elderly woman.

"I'll just bet he did" Cersei muttered under her breath as she stalked towards the door.

* * *

><p>"You disappeared early from my bed this morning" Cersei commented dryly. The warmth of the sun shinning down on the Queen Regent was severely lacking in comparison to the warmth she felt swirling inside her chest, coaxed into being for the young woman sat beside her. She could almost overlook the reason for her visit in favour of simply enjoying her lover's soothing presence and the playful laughter of her young children drifting towards her on the slight breeze.<p>

"I awoke and could not find sleep again" Sansa glanced down at the ground as the lie slipped passed her full pink lips.

"Should I be insulted that you just attempted to lie to me?" Cersei's jaw clenched tightly. A soft regretful sigh from beside her drew her watchful gaze away from her children, playing merrily just metres away in the gardens.

"I had to be seen to awake in my own bed, else the Handmaid would've spoken to someone about my absence" Sansa whispered.

"I know. It was not my intention to sound so harsh..." Beneath the table they were sat at, Cersei's elegant hand sought out the palm of her lover. She tangled their fingers together tightly, savouring the brief connection and knowing she would soon have to relinquish it in favour of devising more effective defences for the City perimeter. Particularly the Mud Gate.

"...I will have to remove this servant, waking to find my arms empty is not something I intend to grow accustomed to once again..." She continued as she began tracing gentle circles her SheWolf's pulse point with the pad of her thumb, smirking as she felt it increase rapidly at the touch. The redhead's own wolf was laying on her stomach at Sansa's feet snoring gently. She deliberately left Tyrion's connection to the Handmaid unvoiced, Sansa was delicate flower, she would not willingly risk exposing her lover to the crueller elements of her life.

Out the corner of her jade coloured eye, Cersei caught Sansa nibbling on her lower lip, something the younger woman only did when preparing herself to request something. She would give her lover whatever she wanted with the concession that it did not endanger her safety and with the sole exception of the elder Stark girl's freedom.

"...You have formed a friendship with this girl haven't you?" It wasn't a question. She knew it to be perfectly logical for Sansa to seek out a friend, something she had never felt inclined to do. 'Friends are for the helpless' her father had once said. Her close bond with Robert had simply occurred while she was unmindful, though she'd embraced his companionship over time.

Regardless of Sansa's innocent motives, she could not deter the...jealousy...that spiked in her chest with surprising swiftness. It took her a moment to decipher what the boiling, irrational, hatred for this nameless girl churning away in her gut was, her oval shaped jaw clenched tightly in response. She didn't want another woman so close to _her_ Sansa on such a regular basis. No one else besides herself, Tommen, Myrcella and The Hound had any business working their way into Sansa's affections and she would not stand for it. She didn't even draw into the equation that this faceless servant was the Imp's illusive lover, she would not be able to control her desire for violence if she took a moment to consider it.

"You are not always with me, the children often like to do things on their own, its lonely at times" Sansa murmured. Cersei sighed harshly, thoughts of strangling, torturing, burning and butchering this unknown woman fled from her mind, for the moment, she knew Sansa's reasoning to be true. She would postpone her far less than civil intentions...for the moment.

"Do not become too attached..." Cersei advised coolly, rising to her feet slowly. Before she could force herself to take a precautionary glance around her to gauge how close the many eyes in the gardens were to them, she leaned down to her lover. Inhaling Sansa's perfect natural scent as she drew close to the younger woman's flesh, the long fall of her silky blonde hair would hide the majority of her actions from any onlookers. No doubt they would think her whispering some cruel taunt into her lover's ear before her departure. The fools.

"...I suggest you rest this noon, for you will get none this night." She purred into Sansa's ear, she couldn't quite resist the urge to nibble on her lover's delicate lobe with her perfect teeth, she could feel her lover begin to shiver responsively against her. The sharp gasp that ripped itself free of the redhead's deliciously tasting lips painted images of her barely restrained desires in her mind's eye. It took a good deal of self control not to seek out her SheWolf's soft lips for a kiss filled with possessiveness, there, in the middle of the gardens with an abundance of servants, most of them spies, her youngest children and even The Hound in assembly. Such carelessness on her part could not be tolerated, yet.

"Cersei..." The Queen Regent lifted her her head, her wicked, signature, smirk filled with heated intent began playing at the corner of her sensual mouth. Her lover's eyes were filled with potent desire. Tonight she would remove any slight vexation of Sansa growing too connected to this handmaid from her mind.

"Find some regular, debasing, task for this Handmaid to occupy until high noon" The Queen Regent's quiet instruction was for The Hound's ears only as she confidently strode passed his impressive bulk and back into The Red Keep.

* * *

><p>"May I speak Your Grace?"<p>

"You may" Cersei responded easily. The Hound inclined his head respectfully before continuing thoughtfully, choosing his words with the utmost care lest his intent was mistaken.

"There is a lot of speculation as to whether or not Your Grace intends to take the Throne..." Sandor began, keeping his head lowered.

"...From the Kingsguard in particular" Cersei closed her eyes slowly. She knew it would soon become a prevailing rumour within the Keep, her decision to confine Joffrey away in his chambers as well as her increasingly active role matters of state voiced what she had not yet confirmed.

"It has long ceased to be a question of 'if', Sandor, it is a matter of 'when'..." Cersei murmured quietly. The blatantly treasonous words flowing from her full pink lips didn't inspire the slightest amount of horror in her that it would in others. she allowed her eyes to flutter open slowly. While she was sat at her desk in her chamber, a position she spent most of her time in recently, Sandor's imposing form was several metres away from her.

"...I need only choose the correct moment" The eve of War certainly did not seem to her as being the right instant, there was too much upset as it was. Unfurling the present regime, staggeringly weak as it was, at such a time would be foolish. Cersei titled her head when she saw a hint of a smile on The Hound's scarred face before it rapidly disappeared.

"But we are not here to discuss the pleasantries of subverting power..." Cersei leaned forward in her high-backed chair.

"...Has the Imp yet 'discovered' my cache of wildfire in the Pyromancer's guild?..." She smirked at The Hound's nod, her ruse would keep the Dwarf busy for the foreseeable, allowing to consolidate her power and solidify her plans. Her smirk diminished after she recalled the missive from the previous night, she had hoped it's discovery was all a nightmare, until she had found it open on her desk, where she'd left it before joining Sansa for sleep.

"...Stannis Baratheon has assassinated his brother, Renly's army has become one with his" Cersei breathed the worst possible outcome.

"...Each Lannister soldier is worth ten of theirs" The Hound rumbled with a blood thirsty gleam in his eye.

"Even if that were true, we would still be vastly outnumbered three-to-one..." Cersei forced a smirk.

"...Conscription will bolster the ranks somewhat, but they will be worthless in combat, easy targets for Baratheon swords"

"They will fight as we do, until you tell us otherwise Your Grace, or I will make them eternally regret their cowardice" Sandor swore with a wicked smirk, she could not help but share.

"You will lead the Vanguard..." Cersei informed him slowly. Her plan may be too late to take hold. But it was all she had. Her last chance to see the Baratheon's subjected to her will. She would not tell Sandor of her intent, she saw no reason to provide him with, what could potentially be, false hope. The disappointment and the consequences would be hers to shoulder alone if her strategy failed. That morning before attending the Small council she had dispatched a Mockingbird.

* * *

><p>Cersei masterfully concealed her scowl of disappointment behind a mask of cold neutrality, despite what the regional maps set out in front of her displayed. Not only was she closely following the advances of Baratheon and Stark armies but she also marked the territories being searched for the young Arya Stark. Three search parties, and no results, save the certainty that young Arya was not in the South. She had debated for long moments as to whether she should risk sending them North.<p>

Jade coloured eyes settled on the sealed letter sprawled out on her desk, the regional maps sheer vastness called for a more substantial surface to be observed clearly. Sighing harshly, she rounded the temporary, circular, table she was standing before, stalking across the wide chamber, she seized the unopened missive. She glared at the Greyjoy sigil proudly imposed on the front. She was the daughter of Tywin Lannister, her inherited ability to turn the tide of any dispute to her advantage was the cause of many individual's night-terrors. She should not feel any amount of edginess when it came to new information. She should welcome it, still the anxiety remained.

Breaking the wax seal, she slowly revealed Lord Balon Greyjoy's nearly illegible scrawl. Heart in her throat, she traced her sceptical eyes over the rough penmanship, one could clearly ascertain that the brief message had been conducted in a hurry. The reason was not her concern, Pike was not of any interest to her, House Greyjoy was not any relevance to her plans. So long as the young Stark boys were treated with the respect due their stations, she had ordered as much. She would not stand for her lover's young brothers being mistreated in any way, she knew how much Sansa cared for her family, and what the redhead cared for she would protect. Provided that they completely and promptly submit to her rule.

Cersei folded the parchment after reading Greyjoy's message, a small smirk curved the right corner of her mouth upwards. Winterfell had fallen to whatever force Lord Balon had sent to the North. Robb Stark would have no choice but to halt his advance towards King's Landing, possibly even return North to recapture his ancestral home. She stalked back to her desk, littered with numerous documents and the like, a single candle flickered upon the solidly built table slightly apart from any flammable materials. She raised the letter to the petite flame, carefully watching the missive catch light and steadily begin to disappear.

As the unique scent of smoldering paper filled her nostrils, she experienced a brief pang of something akin to guilt. What if Sansa were to discover this deception?. Cersei shook her head slowly, casting the thought aside. So long as the residents of Winterfell persisted in their daily lives and tasks then no harm would come to them, her orders had been clear on that matter, even a young child would've grasped her meaning. Besides her only intent was to gather enough time that she may convince Sansa to remain at the Capital, with her. It was what her Father had once called a prevarication, an insignificant lie that could not harm anyone, something her Lord Father had mostly delivered to his children.

"Sandor..." Cersei had barely uttered the last syllable of The Hound's name before he was at her side. She glanced away from the regional maps for a moment, taking in The Hound's dutiful expression.

"...Inform the search parties that I want them to extend their exploration for Arya Stark further North..." Cersei murmured.

"With pleasure Your Grace" An almost gleeful note in The Hound's tone snagged her attention, no matter how faint the emotion had been, she felt compelled to question it further.

"...Something I need to know Sandor?" Cersei arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow quizzically.

"I have it on good authority that the men have been 'detained' in the local brothels for quite some time Your Grace" Sandor reported with a shake of his head. Cersei's upper lip curled into a snarl of distaste, she had given those irrepressible and incompetent fools a task of the utmost importance and this was how they went about it?.

"I'm beginning to think that there are not enough eunuchs in the realm Sandor..." Cersei suddenly mused with a sinister smirk, The Hound's brisk and husky laugh prompted her to grin with wicked intent.

"...Deliver these orders..." The Queen Regent's malicious grin and The Hound's genuinely amused laugh faded away, leaving nothing but typical cold, hard purpose upon their expressions.

"...They are to bring me Arya Stark within the month, if they fail to do so, they will be joining The Master of Whisperers in his 'indisposition'." Cersei smirked. Such orders could possibly prompt the soldiers to flee from her employ, but no matter, it wouldn't take much to track them down to have her promise carried out.

"It will take eleven days at the very least for your instructions to reach them Your Grace, depending on the speed of the messenger" The Hound murmured thoughtfully.

"I am aware of that"

* * *

><p>Cersei purred with temporary satiety and satisfaction as she pressed a single tender kiss to her lover's slender, pale collar bone, she had promised Sansa an exhaustive night and she was by no means finished. Her desires were difficult to quench at the best of times. But her appetite concerning her beautiful lover only seemed to grow with each passing moment and touch.<p>

She turned onto her side next to her panting lover, bearing all her weight on her slender hip and bracing her head on the heel of her palm. Her long blonde mane secured tightly in a long braid. She smirked slowly as she stared into half-lidded pale eyes, the redhead's slim, high, cheekbones were stained red from exertion and her recent climax. Had she ever before witnessed such perfection?.

Her jade coloured eyes flickered up to the Lannister red canopy adorning the carved posts of her large bed. Gazing down at her was the proud and majestic sigil of her cunning House. Not for the first time, she wondered whether or not a wolf could truly find happiness with a Lion. Unbidden, she recalled the news of Winterfell's capture by her command. She intended to say nothing more on the matter, but nonetheless words found themselves perched on the tip of her tongue.

The feeling of soft lips pressing against her own pulled her free of her thoughts her words scattered in the wind. She enjoyed the sensation of kissing her lover, whether it was a tender embrace or heated possession, she savoured it more when the touch was initiated by her SheWolf. Tracing her skilled tongue along the seam of Sansa's mouth, she swiftly indulged herself in sampling the redhead's intoxicating taste the instant the younger woman parted her full lips. Twin moans of delight burst free of them both. Beneath the red silk sheets covering them up to their waists, their bare, entangled legs began sliding against one another's.

Arousal gathered in the pit of her stomach, prompting her to rise up onto her knees, nibbling gently on Sansa's full lower lip as she used her elegant hands to coax her SheWolf's perfectly toned legs apart. Their breathing grew heavy as their tongues began tangling in a sensual dance once again. Cersei began stroking the redhead's pale flesh as she felt the younger woman's slender arms encircle her neck tightly.

Breaking the sweet embrace reluctantly, Cersei rested her forehead against Sansa's gently, both breathing heavily. The Queen Regent felt something twist inside her chest as she stared down at her SheWolf, the gorgeous light blue-grey eyes staring back at her tied her to the moment, thoughts of the world outside her chamber slowly diminished into an inaccessible mist. The sensation within her grew much more intense when her lover's pale hands began to stroke the lithe length her naked back. She didn't often enjoy gentle touches, or physical connections in general, but she was thoroughly content to bask in Sansa's feather-light caress. She brushed her full lips against her SheWolf's tenderly, kissing the redhead languidly, intent to savour the sweet flavour of her lover's sensual lips while Sansa continued her slow touches. Cersei lifted her head abruptly, warmth potently seeped into her chest, so very different to the desire thrumming through her veins and yet emphasised by her lust in the same instant, a sensation she linked solely to Sansa. For the first time, she pondered if Sansa mirrored this emotion that she knew so very little about.

"...Sansa..." Dangerous words threatened to break free of her restraining hold, forbidden words that were entirely unsafe to utter simmered steadily preparing to overflow. The strong emotion fluttering in her chest made it hard to breath and yet she enjoyed the sensation, evened craved it. A harsh exhale was all she could quite manage as her lover tilted her head expectantly with a tender smile. Sansa's pale eyes gleamed urgently in the dim light with something she couldn't name.

"...Do not worry about sneaking from my bed on the morrow..." Cersei finally sighed after long moments of tense silence. She felt a small frown furrow her perfectly shaped brows as the brilliant glow in Sansa's beautifully coloured eyes dimmed slightly. Was the younger woman disappointed that she hadn't said the instinctive words she had felt readying to overstep their bounds?, or was her SheWolf upset that she would not be spending time with the unknown Handmaid in the morning?. Possessive anger was a dull roar in Cersei's ears, her eyes darkened dangerously, her previous, murderous, intentions flared to life once more.

"I never intend to slip from your embrace again..." Sansa whispered soothingly with a shy smile. Seeming to read the darkening expression on the Queen Regent's beautiful face as she would words off a page. Cersei shivered suddenly, feeling her lover began to stroke her back once more, the redhead's short nails caressed her sensitive flesh, having a profound effect on her body. She could not prevent her signature smirk from ghosting across her lips, Sansa's words made something inside of her soar wildly, dispelling the angry haze formerly attempting to catch light with the smallest of sparks.

"Do you honestly think I would let you?" Cersei purred. She didn't allow her lover the chance to answer her question, swiftly seeking out Sansa's succulent lips for a deep kiss, to which the redhead responded with a satisfied sigh. She had given her word to provide the younger woman with a sleepless night, filled with pleasure, and she would always do everything she could to keep the promises she made to her SheWolf.

**AN: Okay so I got bad news and I got good news. Good news is that I've already planned out what happens next chapter, ****for the most part****. Bad news is that it could take me up to three weeks to find some spare time to get it all written up which sucks for all of us. ****But keep your eyes peeled because I will be back...with my version of The Battle of Blackwater Bay ;****D****.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything associated with the show or the books.

**AN: I'm so unbelievably sorry about the long delay. I know I said I'd have this up weeks ago, but in my defence my teachers decided to spring FOUR exams on me out of the blue and I had to hit the books pretty hard, I've still got a migraine :(. But anyway, to make up for the wait, this chapter is exceptionally longer than usual. Hopefully my painkillers haven't impacted my grammar too badly ;D **

**Chapter Nine.**

"As you know Your Grace, it is not only the sworn duty of a Maester to carry out the wishes of the House he serves, but also to offer guidance and council..." Grand Maester Pycelle murmured behind the Queen Regent. Failing spectacularly in his efforts to hide his prying tone from her acute hearing, Cersei mused with a stoic mask as she stared out of the window consuming a wide berth behind her desk, the elaborately carved oak table was overwhelmed by her daily paperwork still waiting patiently to be attended to.

Wary jade coloured eyes gazed at the dark ocean, not too greater distance from the Red Keep. The night sky above her coaxed the small lights in the city of King's Landing into a grandness that they would otherwise fail in. Silver eyes peered down at her from the soullessly dark blanket the sun had given way to a number of hours ago, wondering what strategy she would utilise against her enemies, even now Stannis Baratheon drew ever closer to the Capital of Westeros with his immense fleet following blindly behind him. The stars took on a mocking light as she tilted her head, she hadn't the slightest knowledge of whether or not her plan would take effect. She had written to her Lord Father several days ago, requesting for his assistance. She held no reply and no alternative. There was only one matter in need of addressing at present and she had thought to avoid it.

"...If anything, a Maester's duties become even more urgent in times of war and turmoil. I remember in the days of King-"

"Have you brought me something?" Cersei's brusque hiss cut through the useless ramblings of Maester Pycelle, standing in front of her desk, dressed in his typical humble attire. Bringing her wine glass, that she held clasped in her elegant right hand, up to her full red lips she sipped regally. The rich taste of the beverage contained in her cup did nothing to settle her nagging thoughts. But no matter how helpless the dire situation she found herself in, she refused to allow doubt into her mind. As her father, Tywin Lannister, had once told her, 'If you allow uncertainty to take hold, despair will cripple you'. She smirked slowly before taking an even larger sip of her Dornish wine.

"Yes..." Maester Pycelle stammered nervously behind her, he was no stranger to the erstwhile vicious nature of the Queen Regent. Cersei lowered her wine glass, praying for the patience desperately needed to tolerate the Maester for much longer. She knew exactly what he was doing, attempting to play the Game Of Thrones, her game. He wished for her to supply him with assurance, the certainty that she would seize power from Joffrey, simply so he could whisper it into whatever ear was nearest when he left her chamber.

Opinions on her would only worsen should such a thing occur prematurely, before she intended, she could already envision it. Half the court would praise her revered name for removing Joffrey from power, the other half would rejoice in public and unjustly slander her name behind closed doors, accuse her of stealing the Crown so that she may use her unquestionable influence to halt the rumours of her relationship with Jaime.

It was of no consequence.

If she lived through the night, she fully intended to seize the Throne and openly claim Sansa as her concubine. That in itself would cause an uproar within the entire Seven Kingdoms. But at least she would have unity by at last by proving the legitimacy of her children. And when Westeros stood as a united front under her rule, she would ruin those who had dared to hold her noble family in contempt. But first, she had to achieve the impossible, and devising some clever plot to ward off an army the size of Stannis' would seem hopeless to any but her. She revelled at the opportunity.

"...Essence of Nightshade is as dangerous as it is efficacious. A single drop in a cup of wine, it suffices to soothe the ragged nerves. Three drops will bring on a deep and dreamless sleep. Ten drops however-"

"I know what ten drops will bring" Cersei growled, turning the full force of her staggering glare upon the Maester, Pycelle seemed to shiver under the cold unwavering stare. She strode towards him, secretly smirking when she caught him subconsciously retreating, like a helpless rabbit fleeing a lioness before she clamped her powerful jaws around his neck. Extending her free hand, she arched her perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow, the mocking gesture seemed to spur the Maester back to some courageousness or further stupidity.

When the tiny vial of potentially lethal Nightshade was pressed into her magnolia pale palm, she couldn't resist a glance towards the Lannister red screen, concealing her bed and the bounty within from prying eyes. She could not risk her young lover deducing why she had ordered Pycelle to procure her an exceptionally deadly substance. Sansa was experiencing enough difficulty finding sleep as it was, just like the entire populace of King's Landing on the eve of battle, and she had no desire to cause her SheWolf any further distress on this night.

"Your Grace, if I may ask-" Pycelle licked his dry lips, like the dehydrated shell of a man nearing an oasis. Cersei's upper lip curled with distaste, she was swiftly losing her forbearance with Pycelle's ravenous gossip trenchant. She would not reveal anything of her plans yet.

"You may not..." Cersei snapped, the Queen Regent's eyes flashing dangerously in the flickering orange candlelight illuminating her chamber in mellow light, like a feline deciding which was the weaker member of her quarry.

"...You must have a lot of work to do, I am sure many young men will need your wisdom soon" Cersei sneered at Pycelle. Though a pang of regret blossomed within her chest as she tightened her long slender fingers around the essence of Nightshade, many men of varying ages would die tonight. Husbands. Fathers. Uncles. Sons. And all the rest in between. Loyal Lannister soldiers would fall victim to Baratheon swords on account of a lie. And there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Such waste of life would not be tolerated under her rule, when it dawned.

"Yes a siege is very-"

"Be careful on the stairs Grand Maester, there are so many" Cersei purred icily, the hidden threat took a moment to seep into Pycelle's cognition, she felt like applauding sarcastically when realisation finally shined back at her through the Maester's eyes, instead she smirked mockingly and turned her back on him dismissively. Pycelle may be a causerie hungry vulture, one among many that surrounded her, but he was not enough of a fool to fail in heeding the Queen's clear warning;

"_Speak of this to anyone and death will seek you out in one of many ways"_

* * *

><p>Time was a heavy encompass, Cersei discovered as she stared up at the Lannister red canopy above her, the proud sigil of her House, adorning the finely woven silk, looked back at her with fierce eyes. She found herself covetous of the Lannister lion's unwavering stance and expression as she lay atop of her bedsheets, waiting for warning bells to signal the inevitable. It had been well over an hour since Pycelle's departure. The Queen Regent stroked Sansa's back with light comforting touches as she appraised the sight above her. Her lover was pressed tightly into her side, the redhead's muscles were tensed tighter than a taut bow string ready to loose an arrow.<p>

As much as the Queen Regent wished to relieve the scorching fear she could sense swimming just beneath the surface of her SheWolf's flesh, swiftly consuming the redhead's thoughts like a raging storm, it was simply another thing not of her control this night. She'd briefly considered coaxing Sansa to drink a single drop of the Nightshade perched on the small bed-side table, until she'd recalled the reason for its acquisition and the thought of allowing her lover to come into contact with the substance, even through the barrier of glass, became inconceivable.

Finally breaking her gaze with the proud Lion glaring back at her with sharp teeth bared aggressively. Her jade coloured eyes sought out Sansa's beautiful face in the darkness, her SheWolf's head rested on her shoulder, despite the various candles spread out across her large bedchamber there was very little clarification to be found in the furnishings silhouettes.

Her lover's stunning blue-grey eyes gleamed in the mellow light, Sansa's breathing was dangerously shallow, Cersei's chest tightened painfully as she caressed her SheWolf's face with her eyes and continued to stroke the younger woman's clothed back with her elegant hands. Offering what little comfort and security how she could. With touch and glance. The slowing of the redhead's breathing was her reward, though fear still burned in the far corners of Sansa's captivating pale eyes. Leaning forward, she brushed her full red lips over her SheWolf's brow, despising the fact she could not force the anxiety, so very clearly, simmering within the younger woman back to whence it came. She was not accustomed to having control slip from her steely grasp and into the hands of another.

"I distinctly remember asking you to at least try and sleep" Cersei murmured gently as she tenderly nuzzled the magnolia pale skin beneath her lips. Apprehensive nerves were made worse by fatigue, she knew that from experience, while she accepted she couldn't do much to sooth her lover's fears, she would freely give what little she could.

"You would have greater fortune ordering a bat to remain awake during the day" Sansa's whispered quietly, she could sense weariness slithering in the redhead's tone as she caressed her lover's body with her hands.

"There is oblivion in sleep Sansa, for however long the world and all the troubles held by it cease to exist." Cersei prompted.

"Only to be magnified when you awake to find them on your doorstep instead of a good distance away" Sansa snuggled closer to the Queen Regent as she voiced her damnably reasonable protest. Cersei's jaw tightened as she held the younger woman close.

"Perhaps. But then there is only time enough to react, never to think. That in itself is a clemency for some" Cersei purred coaxingly. For some maybe, but not for her, to play the Game Of Thrones one needed to plot several steps ahead of one's enemies. And none played the Game better than she did. Even now, she schemed to gain victory. But to voice her current plan to any, save herself, was to give them Hope. Out all the emotions she was unacquainted with, Hope could be counted chiefly among them. She depended solely upon her own cunning ability to ensure fate played out the way she desired, but she knew others depended upon Hope, mainly Sansa, thus she would hold her tongue.

Her heart lurched into her throat, pounding furiously and pumping sudden adrenaline through her veins, when she heard the warning bell tolling loudly outside her bedchamber window.

* * *

><p>"Take the children and go immediately to Maegor's Holdfast. You recall the fastest route I revealed to you?" Cersei was surprised at the steady note of her own voice, she had suspected it would appear somewhat shaky due to the mass of fretful nerves thrumming in the pit of her stomach. Tommen and Myrcella each desperately clung to her, their little arms clenching around her slender waist so tight she expected purplish bruises to blossom in a matter of moments. She stroked the fall of their golden manes tenderly as she spoke to her lover just outside her children's chambers.<p>

"Yes" Sansa's melodious voice was drenched with acidic fear. Cersei's jaw tightened slowly, she continued gently raking her long slender fingers through her children's silky tresses, sensing their fear and knowing she could do nothing to prevent it was maddening. Her own worries seemed to disperse when she was confronted with theirs.

"I have matters to attend to but I will join you soon enough" Cersei reluctantly urged Tommen and Myrcella towards Sansa, she found a small smile begin to play at the corner of her full red lips as she watched them turn their urgent need for comfort from easily her to her SheWolf so naturally. Even Sansa appeared to calm as her children's arms clung to the redhead. A pair of thunderous footsteps swiftly approaching caught her attention, tilting her head, she found The Hound marching down the wide corridor, a bloodthirsty gleam in his dark brown eyes.

"Your Grace" As Sandor inclined his head reverently, she noticed a grim note mingle with the sanguinary gleam in his eyes as he turned his gaze onto Sansa. He was just as protective of her SheWolf as she was.

"Is everything assembled Sandor?" Cersei watched Sansa carefully as she spoke, her lover looked so vulnerable that it felt as though a rusty blade was being driven into her chest and roughly twisted with every breath she took.

"Yes, Your Grace" Sandor's deep rumble seemed to reach out to her over a great distance as she stared into her SheWolf's beautiful pale eyes. In the back of her mind she couldn't think of a reason to cease as she stalked forward, no matter how this night reached its end, none would be able to judge her actions anyhow.

Tenderly she cupped the younger woman's warm porcelain cheek in the palm of her left hand, there were a magnitude of soothing words she could feel perched on the tip of her tongue, but they were all too negligible in the present situation. Instead, she slowly closed the marginal distance between them, in full view of her children and The Hound, Sansa's shocked breathless gasp reverberated against her lips as she brushed them against Sansa's in a soft, warm kiss. Cersei smirked with contentment as she felt her SheWolf tentatively began to return her chaste embrace, for several seraphic moments, she stroked Sansa's soft cheek with her thumb as they slowly kissed.

"Now go..." Cersei urged in a reluctant whisper against her lover's velvet soft lips, elation fluttered in her chest when she felt the redhead smile helplessly against her sensual mouth.

"...All of you" Her tone was one of unequalled sobriety. Myrcella's no doubt impish comment died in the young blonde's throat when she identified her mother's forbidding tone of voice, Tommen's cherub face brightened with a half smile as he quietly slipped his hand into Sansa's readily. Cersei's signature smirk spread into a wicked smile as her lover continued to stare back at her, a blush staining the younger woman's high aristocratic cheekbones, her SheWolf's confounded yet titillated pale eyes darted from the young children clasping each of her graceful hands to The Hound standing tall behind the Queen Regent. She could read the question, as clear as the midday sky alight with the high sun, in the redhead's blue-grey gaze, but she did not have time to answer it yet.

"Something you wish to say?" Cersei audaciously tilted her up at The Hound after she'd watched, bemused as her children all but dragged her speechless lover down the corridor, never once had their stare been interrupted and never did her SheWolf's amorous smile diminish. Until the younger woman had disappeared around the stone corner. The Hound's hard eyes had softened in his scarred face during the tender interaction between his charges, she raised a single perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow until the hard edge returned to his unwavering stare.

"No Your Grace" The Hound's lips twitched with the barest hint of a fond smile. As she turned to stalk passed Sandor, towards the council chamber where all the Maester's were gathered, she could not stifle the predatory yet tender smile that crossed her lips.

Her puzzle pieces were steadily descending into the formation she desired.

* * *

><p>"We will convene immediately after victory has been handed to me, I advise you all against trying my patience when the time comes..." The assured authority in the Queen Regent's voice would have one believe that the arduous battle encroaching in on King's Landing would be won simply on account of her say so. Surveying the sickly looking expressions looking up at her, she couldn't resist giving them all her signature smirk, the cold half-smile stayed in place as the doors to the council chamber burst open to reveal the all Kingsguard, with the exception of her twin. The questions suddenly alight within the Maester's eyes sparked a bolt of satisfaction within her.<p>

"You may leave Maesters, no doubt you wish to polish your tongues for Stannis should he, by some unnatural event, surpass my expectations" Cersei sneered scornfully. Of course the assembled before her were already planning which was the foremost greeting and position to assume if Stannis Baratheon were to take the City, they would be swift in their efforts to gain his favour.

"My Queen" Sandor inclined his head respectfully once the Maesters had shuffled passed the Kingsguard, all of her guards outfitted for war, and out of the basically furnished council chamber. Cersei gracefully rose up out of her high-backed chair, turning just as the Kingsguard, as one, dropped to one knee before her. She raised her head slightly, silently acknowledging their show of voiceless fealty.

"The wildfire is in place?" She didn't address anyone in particular as she spoke.

"It is Your Grace, as is everything else" The Hound's deep baritone rumbled in the dark chamber, flickering orange light was cast around the council chamber from various tapers.

"Then we are ready. Inform the City officials that capital punishment will dealt out instantaneously to those who seek the opportunity to perpetrate any illegal transgression from this moment on. Ser Boros and Ser Arys, I entrust you both with the task of keeping the messenger routes clear, fail to do so, and I will personally see you hanged with your own entrails. Understood?" Cersei waited for the briefest of nods from each man before she stalked around the semi-circle they formed and out the double doors, they were close on her heels as she prowled through the Red Keep towards the Throne room. The sounds of their heavy boots echoed loudly in her ears, unsurprisingly her path did not pass another's, the servants were all cowering in their quarters and the Lords were presumably readying to take to the battlefield. A heated scowl passed fleetingly over her face, she wouldn't be overly astonished if the number of attendants in the Keep 'mysteriously' tripled within the next hour.

* * *

><p>"Where is Joffrey?" Cersei demanded of Sandor as they approached the Throne room at a brisk pace.<p>

She had already given the remainder of the Kingsguard leave to tend to their duties, they must be seen to serve Joffrey for the Battle, else confusion would settle over the residual of the Lannister army. Confusion lead to weakness. That was the sole reason she had failed to directly announce her ascension, the need for a change in leadership was apparent to all of the populace, but she could not afford for her soldiers to become distracted, as they were likely to become when she seized power, their only focus should be centred on the battle. It was only natural for underlings to question a change in power, like a troupe of ants to honey, they wouldn't be capable of preventing themselves from questioning her reasoning though it was naught of their concern.

"Readying for the siege" Sandor's reluctant response snagged her attention and brought her to a stop in the Throne room vestibule, whirling around to face The Hound, the force of her icy glare was enough for the muscular man to retreat a step. A tick formed in the Queen's oval shaped jaw as she searched The Hound's eyes for the jest she was clearly missing.

"The boy is a fool" Cersei hissed between gritted teeth, when she found only sincerity staring back at her through Sandor's dark brown eyes. She cursed the slight twinge of maternal worry that struck her in the pit of her stomach, internally she sought to crush it, while calling on her inheritance, the Lannister cunning, to provide her with a solution to her eldest son's stupidity.

"There is something else Your Grace" Sandor murmured gravely, as though he could not decide if it would be better to remain silent then to voice the vexing matter.

"Speak then" Cersei growled.

"By Ser Boros' account, he sent for Sansa, demanding her presence before he joins the battle" Cersei's icy stare would have cut through stone as it descended into a glacial hue. She stalked through the Throne room's partially parted doors, her jaw clenched so tight she doubted whether she would be able to from words, she noted several of the higher ranking Lannister soldiers savouring, possibly, their last moments with their wives all around the vast chamber. The Throne rooms sheer magnitude would offer a comfortable home to a troupe of eagles among the rafters without the majestic birds ever discovering that they were indeed held captive with an actual structure.

When her eyes found Sansa, lingering nervously towards the other end of the Throne room, her pace quickened despite the curious eyes suddenly attached to her. She could feel The Hound's imposing form close behind her own, the silence of his movements should be unattainable to a man of Sandor's bulky size. The doors from one of the numerous side entrances burst open, Cersei growled in annoyance when she caught Joffrey _sauntering _through the arched doorway dressed in his newly forged armour, as though the battle he was about to submerge himself in was a mere game, a game he could simply restart if it did not play out the way he wanted. She would never understand where his imbecilic tendencies had sprouted from, certainly not from her or Robert.

"Such a touching sight is it not?, young love..." Cersei froze when a familiar drawl sounded from behind her, the instant fury that blazed to life within her was unmistakable, only one person could provoke such instant irritation, and he was little more than half a man.

"...Come to wish the King a good fortune?" Tyrion sidled towards her, swallowing tightly when The Hound glared down at him, she smirked as she noted the vast difference in The Imp's unimpressive height when compared with Sandor's immense frame, it was almost comical. Across the Throne room, she watched helplessly while Joffrey interacted with her lover, she may not be within ear-shot of the two, but she knew her eldest son, she knew what poison he was likely dripping into her SheWolf's delicately shaped ear.

"Oddly enough, it is not my son that I foresee falling this night. After all, it was our brother that personally saw to his training" Cersei hissed down at the Dwarf, she wanted to find the sight of her deformed brother clad in armour amusing, but all she felt was panic. Nothing good ever came of Joffrey's impromptu conversations with Sansa, she had done her best to keep them separated during the younger woman's stay at King's Landing for that precise reason. She would prefer to be locked in the dark cells with only Tyrion as her companion for days on end rather than allow her SheWolf to become upset.

"Three lessons wasn't it?" Tyrion drawled snidely.

"And still I'd confidently wager that Joffrey knows more about combat than you ever will" Cersei sneered scornfully. She knew the words falling from her lips to be entirely false, however she was confident that her eldest son's cowardice would prevent him from injury this night. She felt every in her lithe body tense when across the grand hall she glimpsed Joffrey unsheathe his sword, tilting her head slightly, she silently ordered The Hound to leave her side and instead turn to Sansa's.

"I know enough on the subject to protect this City" Tyrion grumbled defensively. Cersei forced herself not to openly laugh at his naïvety, he honestly thought that she knew nothing of his 'acquisition' of the wildfire she had ordered swiftly produced a matter of months ago. When in fact it was well known to her. The Imp thought he could swindle more influence among the nobles, perhaps even their Lord Father, by claiming that it was he, not her, who had done their absolute best to sway the tide of battle.

The ease in which she had manipulated the Dwarf was almost unnatural. As far as the nobles went, they were a scourge of vultures always looking for their next ambidextrous meal, their opinions, as always, mattered very little to her. On the other gilded hand, she had outlined her strategy in detail to her Lord Father in her missive, Tywin Lannister would be fully aware of which child he would be forced to acknowledge if the battle was won. If.

"What you know about warfare is the equivalent to what I know of mercy" Cersei snapped venomously, she did not forget when she was wronged nor did she forgive the offence, something Tyrion should be utterly aware of. The Imp answered her insult with a dark, silent, glare. Sensing her triumph over the Dwarf she swiftly stalked forward, elegantly striding towards the other opposite end of the Throne room. Sandor was already looming protectively behind her lover, while in front of them, Joffrey nervously sheathed his sword.

"Mother. Your concern for my well being is quite poignant, if a little belated. When my uncle's blood stains the ground, you and I will be discussing your recent treacherous behaviour" Cersei's jade coloured eyes flared with annoyance, like the irritation she would feel for a cockroach that refused to depart.

"You would do well to remember exactly who you are talking to Joffrey" Cersei hissed heatedly, beside her she could almost hear The Hound growling in response to her son's impertinence.

"I would offer you the same advice. Never forget that I am the King, you may be my mother but I will not stand for any wilful discourtesy from any one of my subjects, such is the nature of your unlawful treatment of me in the past weeks" Joffrey spat. Cersei crossed her arms beneath her breasts as she traced her son's features, he appeared like any other member of House Lannister, but only an imbecile from one of the lesser Houses, perhaps even the common populace, would dare to adopt such an undutiful tone while addressing her, to say nothing of the words falling from her son's mouth. Her palm positively itched to slap his porcelain cheek, instead she forced her hands into tight fists, taking satisfaction in the fact she would soon be permanently relieving Joffrey of all his titles, and Sansa's betrothal.

"Seeking to conceal your cowardice from those that would use it against you is hardly what I consider unlawful" Cersei growled, her tone took on a lethal note. She couldn't bring herself to experience a twinge of guilt as she watched Joffrey flinch in response to her virulent, and wholly accurate, hiss. She cast her eyes towards Sansa, her lover stood slightly in front of her and to her left, The Hound loomed behind her SheWolf protectively. For the first time since she'd laid eyes on her lover, Sansa stared back at Joffrey without the acidulous gleam of fear in her beautiful pale irises. A half-smile crossed her full red lips despite the audience staring at them.

"Come my nephew, Stannis' fleet draws near" Cersei pursed her lips, behind her The Imp promenaded towards them. Tyrion drew to a stop beside her, she didn't even spare the Dwarf a glance, instead she slowly extended her elegant hand towards her younger lover.

"We must retire to the Holdfast" She ignored the appalled glances she was receiving from all angles, for when had Cersei Lannister ever been remotely civil towards Sansa Stark?. Her smile was for her lover, alone, the Throne room might as well be empty for all the attention she paid to the lingering guards, The Imp and Joffrey. After some initial and anticipated hesitation, Sansa cautiously slipped her graceful palm into that of the Queen Regent.

"Try not to die too swiftly" Cersei hissed at Tyrion as she carefully lead the younger woman from the Throne room, Sandor dutifully followed after them. Cersei winced internally when in the distance the warning bells sounded once again, their loud echoing octaves fostered a frantic rhythm which only served to confirm the Imp's words. It would not be long until the Baratheon fleet entered the harbour of King's Landing.

"Where are the children?" Cersei tilted her head to ask of her lover as she subconsciously decided upon which routes to take through the labyrinth of wide marble halls, her lover's hand still entwined with her own and The Hound close behind them.

"I made certain they were safe in the Holdfast before answering Joffrey's summons" Sansa swiftly answered. Cersei growled inwardly, she was perfectly well acquainted with the temporary occupants of Maegor's Holdfast, they would all be 'doting' upon her youngest children with their ulterior motives lurking in the shadows.

She didn't fear her children accidentally revealing the nature of her relationship with Sansa. Tommen spoke very little to people he wasn't familiar with and Myrcella harboured just as much contempt for the Ladies of the Court as she did herself. Which was exactly why she detested her children's current emplacement. She masked her annoyance behind a genuine smile for her lover, her SheWolf was still terrified of the upcoming battle, she could see the panic so very plainly in the redhead's blue-grey eyes. Her frustration, inspired by that infuriating concept, spurned her to quicken her pace.

* * *

><p>"Go inside, I must speak with Sandor" When Cersei reached the grand vestibule leading to Maegor's Holdfast, The Hound towered several feet away from where she stood close to the entrance with Sansa. The Queen Regent fleetingly caressed her lover's magnificently pale high cheekbone with the backs of her slender knuckles. She smiled tenderly, feeling the younger woman lean so naturally into her soft touch. Reluctantly withdrawing her graceful hand, she flattened her palm against Sansa's lower back, urging her SheWolf into the secure chamber.<p>

"How can I serve Your Grace?" Cersei held Sansa's pale eyes with her own, refusing to sever the connection, until the barrier of the closing double doors forced her to look away from her lover.

"You and I both know victory is an almost implausible thought..." Cersei murmured quietly, whispering the words she wouldn't contemplate uttering with the younger woman within ear-shot.

"If the battle begins to turn for the worst..." She began with a harsh sigh, a lump formed in the slender column of her throat as she looked up at The Hound's scarred face. As much confidence she held in her own plans, she could not glance passed the possibilities of failure, that was not what her father had taught her. Her renowned visage mirrored a stoic mask as she spoke.

"I want you to return to me, I will have one final task for you to carry out" She breathed out on a sigh, her entire being rebelled against the mere thought swirling around in her mind, every avenue had to be considered.

"Can I ask what the nature of this task is Your Grace?" The Hound inclined his head reverently as his rumbling voice filled the deathly silence, like the grim silence that descends over a battleground in the wake of war. A tick formed as she clenched her jaw tightly, she saw no reason to put voice to the task before the duty was needed to be preformed.

"You will be informed, when it is necessary..." She murmured gravely. The warning bells ringing in the distance suddenly adopted a frenzied tempo.

"The battlefield calls to you Sandor..." She said in way of a dismissal. The Hound nodded briskly, turning on his steel-plated boot heel, his abnormally light foot falls echoed through the eerily silent halls. She stared at his broad, gold armour clad, back as he stalked down the wide marble corridor, his stealthy movements slightly disturbed the crimson tapestries mounted on the walls. The pang of concern for the bulky man that stabbed her through her chest was an utterly ridiculous sensation, the mere notion of Sandor falling in combat was too absurd to truly contemplate to the fullest. But nonetheless, she couldn't quite glare the emotion back into its cage.

* * *

><p>Cersei twirled her wine goblet around slowly, the pleasant thrum of rich alcohol flooded her veins, the steady burn flickering at her cognition drowned out the galling crying emitting from the crowd of hens meandering around the spacious chamber. Flinging her arm out carelessly, she waited with an impartial expression gracing her stunning face as the handmaid lingering by her left shoulder to fill her glass again. Lifting the goblet to her full red lips, she swiftly drank the entire contents of her glass in a few mouthfuls, the lingering taste of Dornish wine on her tongue distracted her from the various gazes affixed to her, filled with varying degrees of admiration and confusion. She managed to retain her stoic mask as she once again gestured for yet another refill of her more favoured beverage.<p>

By her reckoning, the battle furiously raging just outside the walls of the Red Keep had been carrying on for several hours. Numerous times she had been delivered various reports on the progression of the battle, but she had not received the one missive she would hold greater interest in. Her Lord Father would have his intentions remain an enigma it would seem, surprise would be a route offered to her if she were any different from her sire. She could not recall the amount of occasions she had plotted and schemed the downfall of others, without leaving the barest shadow of a hint for her victims to detect. Like The Imp had perceptively stated at so many junctures in their Game Of Wits, Tywin Lannister had taught her very well.

Dispelling the thought, she repeated the procedure of draining her wine and motioning for yet another replenishment, on this occurrent she rested the underside of her wine goblet on her armrest. Casting her jade coloured irises around the Holdfast, the mellow light illuminating the chamber seemed to guide her hawk-like gaze directly to her lover. Across the chamber, her SheWolf was mingling with the other high-born ladies, murmuring words of comfort to the other distressed noblewomen, while Tommen and Myrcella weaved in and out of the peeresses as they glumly lead Duchess around the room, even the wolf pup seemed susceptible to the grim atmosphere. A harsh sigh ripped itself free of her full red lips, as much as she dreaded the end of this night, waiting for a result from the battle itself went far beyond onerous. Anxiety was the companion towering over her shoulder and yet she was prepared to confront it with a smirk on her face.

The Queen Regent raised her wine glass up to her lips just as she caught a glimpse of Sansa's Handmaid lingering in a crudely formed stone corner. She scowled heatedly behind her expressionless mask, watching with a malicious gleam in her eyes as the dark haired woman approached her lover across the dense chamber. She left hand, free of her wine glass, clenched into a tightly coiled fist as she silent observed the younger women retire to a secluded nook in the Holdfast, before a self-mocking smirk tilted the right corner of her mouth upwards. Her capricious temper always did flare far swifter when she indulged in alcohol. Abandoning her empty wine glass on a small square table within arms reach, she adopted a regal posture, glaring darkly at the numerous pairs of discerning eyes bolted onto her as a sense of profound powerlessness curved her full red lips into an indifferent snarl.

* * *

><p>"Why is he here?" Cersei tilted her head towards the silent form of Ser Ilyn, the executioner stood close to her side, black gloved palms clasped in front of him, before returning her gaze to where she truly wished to be looking.<p>

"Ser Ilyn?..." Cersei murmured thoughtfully, she was hardly going to announce her true intentions regarding the presence of The King's Justice being close at hand. She refused to incite more panic within the heart of her lover. Reaching out slowly, she linked her long slender fingers with those of her lover uncaring of the public implications. She smiled at the flutter of satisfaction within her chest as the younger woman latched onto her hand.

"Additional protection..." Cersei lied easily. She clenched her jaw tightly, sensing the wave of disbelief as it washed over her SheWolf, a tender glint found itself alight in her jade coloured eyes as she slowly realised how easily Sansa seemed to read her thought.

She brushed the soft pad of her thumb over the back of the younger woman's graceful hand comfortingly, silently requesting her lover to cease her questioning. A thankful smirk graced her ageless face as Sansa smiled acceptingly. A shifting of pale material, out the corner of her perceptive eyes, caught her attention, unbidden. She felt a low growl begin to rumble in the back of her throat as her jade coloured irises fell onto her SheWolf's Handmaid, the dark haired woman's equally dark eyes were intently agaze at the conjoined hands of the Queen Regent and young redheaded lover. The unstable emotions simmering inside of her gave birth to annoyance, her irritation with the Handmaid was only amplified by the sheer measure of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night.

"This one is unknown to me" Cersei hissed suddenly, she did not appreciate the aghast shimmer being aimed at her in the slightest. Gracefully climbing to her feet, she descended the small dais and stalked towards the Handmaid. The clumsy curtsey she was greeted with was positively disastrous.

"That was the worst curtsey I've ever seen..." Cersei stated bluntly.

"Here. Allow me, I mastered the art when I was a mere child. Keep your back straight and bend at the knee" Demonstrating as she spoke, she savoured the touch of instinctive fear gripping the dark haired Handmaid in cold hands, she could see it in the girl's dark eyes. She could feel the warmth of her lover mingling with her own from behind as The Imp's lover follow her example like a trained pet.

"What is your name?" She tilted her head, her eyes fostering a predatory edge as she trailed her cold eyes over the dark haired woman's scantly clad body.

"Shae Your Grace" Cersei nodded briefly, such a concise movement it was barely noticeable to those around her, the pair of confused, mesmerising pale eyes imploring her to cease her toying with the_ Lorathi_ Handmaid.

"How long has it been since you left Lorath?..." Cersei drawled, her tone dropped several octaves, insidious intent leaking into her voice.

"Don't look so surprised, I had a Lorathi Handmaid once. The only difference being she was high-born. You are not" Cersei purred, she could hear the arrogance in her own voice but she couldn't bring herself to bring it to a heel. Sansa's blue-grey eyes were beseeching her discontinue her examination of The Imp's lover.

"Ten years Your Grace" _Shae _answered.

"From the Free cities to the Red Keep in ten years without having to learn how to curtsey?. I wonder how that occurred..." She sneered scornfully. Only an imbecile would fail to gain the correct conclusion from the evidence before her.

"Your Grace!" Cersei cocked her head, hearing her title being screeched from the left. Her upper lip curved into a snarl of distaste upon the arrival of her cousin Lancel.

"What?" She snapped irritably. Her dangerous mood grew darker with the agonizing reminder of the inevitable quickly approaching.

"The Imp has set the river on fire, Stannis' fleet is destroyed but the soldiers..." Lancel drew near to her, whispering for her ears only "...The Vanguard has been overrun"

"What of Sandor?" Cersei growled, concern for the bulky man ripping through her deep hatred for the Handmaid, the force of her glare staggered the other Lannister back several steps.

"The Dog is unharmed. But the King...he has, Your Grace he has..." Lancel stuttered uselessly.

"For the love of the Gods, would you speak clearly?" The Queen Regent snarled angrily, forcibly staying her hand at the insulting appellation to Sandor, if she lived through the night, she would personally see that the cretin shivering in front of her was made The Hound's individualized whipping boy.

"The King has fled the battlefield and locked himself inside his chambers. The morale of the troops has been decimated Your Grace..." Lancel finally whispered fretfully. She had suspected her son would scarper from the battle the moment blood was spilled.

"I would ask your permission to escort Joffrey back onto the field" Cersei smirked, sensing the inanity in such an action, shoving a trembling boy toward the head of the Vanguard would only serve to destroy the merest fraction of morale that remained.

"Summon The Hound to me immediately" Cersei's scathing command left no more option.

* * *

><p>"Listen closely Sandor..." Though she spoke in a whisper, even she could detect the lasting ascendency within her tone. She glanced around the vestibule to Maegor's Holdfast, ensuring that no living soul was within ear-shot as she addressed The Hound privately.<p>

"Your final task is really quite effortless..." The Queen Regent leaned her back against the cold marble wall behind her as she hunted for the words struggling to stay unexpressed. The Hound shifted on his steel-plated boots, regardless of the cool night breeze billowing into the wide entrance hall there was a light sheen of perspiration dotted across Sandor's scarred face, accompanied by brilliant red streaks of Baratheon blood.

"You are going to take Sansa, back home, to Winterfell..." She swallowed to resist choking on the words she dragged out of concealment. The Hound had already informed her, that the battle was more or less lost, all that remained was for her to publicly relinquish the City to Stannis. Sandor remained quiet as she attempt to familiarise herself the odd sensation churning away in her gut, for the first occurrence since the untimely death of her mother, she felt her jade coloured eyes begin to sting with the foreign burn of tears. Not as a result of the simple defeat, but because she knew the moment she had been dreading the entire night finally stared back at her with an unforgiving and soulless expression.

"Myrcella and Tommen will never be safe in Westeros once Stannis is on the Throne, I want you to..." The unwilled agonizingly tight clenching of her oval shaped jaw prevented her from continuing, despite the uncommon action, she refused to look away from The Hound's dark brown eyes. The lump within her throat threatened to rob her of all speech as she held Sandor's stare.

"To take them to the Free Cities, once there, send a raven to my father. He will see that neither you nor they want for anything" She pursed her lips slowly, cursing the relentless bite of her tears as they continued gathering, unrelenting as they were, she would never allow them to fall, not a single drop. She was a Lannister.

"What will you do Your Grace?" The Hound's deep rumble was thicker than usual, she managed to keep her breathing even as she stared back at her most faithful servant and her expression empty of the volatile mixture of anguish and panic eroding her inner reservation. She didn't fear for herself, but for her children and her lover, she would greet the unavoidable with her signature smirk firmly in place as long as she knew they would be safe. Nothing in the world was closer to her heart and there was no better man to assign this crucial task.

"Such an inane question Sandor, especially being as you already know the answer..." She mused, blinking rapidly and clearing her throat.

"I will surrender the City personally. But I will not give my late husband's brother the satisfaction of claiming my life..." A satisfied smile ghosted across her face. She brandished the vial of Nightshade, that she'd kept hidden within her crimson skirts, as The Hound's eyes flickered with confusion.

"Your Grace, this is illicit. The Baratheon bastard's claim to the Throne disintegrated when you gave life to your children" The Hound protested heatedly, for a concise moment she almost imagined she witnessed Sandor's dark brown eyes begin to gleam in the flickering light cast from the torches mounted along the walls. She cast the thought aside for the absolute nonsense it was.

"Life is very rarely fair Sandor, only fools and children believe otherwise" Cersei enforced with an unwavering look. The situation she found herself in, was inescapable in its surreality. She had given her utmost to defend the Lannister assertion to power, and she had failed. She would lose everything, because of a lie cast by a paranoid simpleton. She would taken from her Myrcella and Tommen, like her mother had been taken from her and she would lose Sansa without being able to acknowledge the emotions her SheWolf had inspired.

"Cersei?..." Glancing to the right, warmth flared potently in her chest as her weary gaze settled onto the forms of her lover and her children, clinging to her lover's pale hands, while Sansa's own canine companion sat back on her lithe haunches close to the redhead's feet. Discreetly tucking the vial of nightshade into her sleeve, the Queen Regent stiffly pushed herself away from the wall at her back, her long legs warned her to move slowly, lest her limbs fall victim to the despair clouding her thoughts.

"Sandor, gather what provisions you will require for your journey, and take Tommen and Myrcella with you" She watched as Sansa's eyes glinted questioningly as she spoke in a clear tone.

"Of course Your Grace" The Hound inclined his head as he turned on his heel, waiting for the royal children to walk on ahead of him, before he stalked down the hall after his charges. The unmerciful hand gripping the jaded organ inside her chest squeezed, castings waves of agony burning through her body as she gazed at the hauntingly beautiful face of her lover.

"We must talk, but not here"

* * *

><p>"The battle is lost, isn't it?" The Queen Regent's eyes drifted closed, as much as she resented the dire resignation in Sansa's melodious voice, she could not deny the truth. The times where she could freely deliver falsehoods to her lover had long since passed. Glancing away from the gilded pane covering the wide window in her vast chambers, outside in the harbour she could clearly see the remnants of the recently utilized Wildfire, the powerful chemical seemed to have scorched the very sky.<p>

"Worry not. Stannis will not hurt you, you are after all, a Lannister captive" Cersei drawled mockingly. Her safekeeping of Sansa's true status would provide her lover with the necessary protection should her SheWolf be confronted with Baratheon forces. The likelihood of which was very small. Turning on her heel, she inwardly winced when confronted with the torturous sight of the younger woman's unshed tears, she stalked across her chambers, settling on the edge of her large four poster bed beside her lover.

"You will be reunited with your family before long..." The sharp needle of pain that pierced her chest twisted malevolently as she watched a silvery tear wend its way down Sansa's resplendently pale cheek. Subconsciously she reached out with her elegant left palm, gently catching the single tear with her slim knuckles while her SheWolf attempted to forestall the rest. She slowly guided her hand along her lover's oval shaped jaw in a tender caress, the soft flesh beneath her sensitive fingertips was mesmeric. The stringency in her chest seemed to both loosen and tighten in the same harrowing instant.

"Why the tears Sansa?. This is what you desired, is it not?" Many a time the younger woman had said as much, but as more tears hurried to replace the first of their akin, she found herself pondering if that was the only cause for the strangled sobs her lover tried to smother. Before her well spent time was done, she would put a name to the tender emotion that only Sansa seemed able to exalt from her and she would discover if that inebriating feeling swirled as lively inside her SheWolf as it did within herself.

"It was..." She snaked her arm around the younger woman's compact shoulders, drawing her cherished lover toward her, she eagerly inhaled Sansa's sweet scent on a shaky breath, no matter how much she longed for this moment, she was tortuously aware of the dwindling time left until the first of Stannis' horde managed to burst through the Mud gate. She wanted her lover and her children well beyond the City limits, in The Hound's trusted care, by that dreaded event.

"It is. I do wish to see my family again, but..." The younger woman's words were lost as her SheWolf nuzzled her beautiful face into the slight column of the Queen Regent's neck. A ravenous hunger for the straying words reared as she tenderly cupped the back of her SheWolf's head, burying her long slender fingers into the silky red tresses.

"'But'..." She prompted in a whisper, fighting the urge to clutch at the painful ache in her chest as the exposed pale skin of her neck was bathed in Sansa's flowing tears. Gently she stroked the silken tresses beneath her elegant hand, feeling her lover's lithe arms clinch around her slender waist.

"I don't want to leave you" Her SheWolf's irrepressible sobs dried up long enough for the Queen Regent to hear. A shaky sigh fled her full red lips, the emotion that only the younger woman could induce erupted forth, more potently than an explosion of freshly produced wildfire. She savoured the words she'd longed to hear since the first emergence of Sansa's emotion.

"Had it not come to this, I never would have let you go..." Cersei breathed, all of the forbidden words she had worked towards quelling for the past several weeks found their way onto the tip of her tongue. The tender-hearted words notions and speeches seemed to peak, brimming at the edge of her control as her lover raised her head. A pulsing tick formed as her jaw clenched, instinctively denying the adoring words their freedom.

"Intentions are good. Deeds are better" She purred self-mockingly, internally she hissed violent curses at the Gods. She'd never thought she would discover a capacity to experience _that_ feeling, the very emotion Robert had insisted she would one day unveil 'after she visited enough beds of comely maids'. She rolled her jade coloured eyes fondly, after her late husband had ascertained where her preferences lay and their friendship had solidified, he had often talked to her of Lyanna. What she felt for her SheWolf mirrored, if not transcended, Robert's devotion to the deceased Lady Stark. She trailed her hand along the slim slant of her lover's shoulder, clad in Lannister red, until she was able to tilt the younger woman's face up toward her. The sorrow shinning back at her through Sansa's pale eyes encouraged her to begin stroking the redhead's porcelain cheek with her thumb.

"For what it is worth, I have never felt like this, about anyone else. Remember that when..." Cersei's strained whisper as ensued by a loud commotion outside her chamber, she tensed promptly, almost sensing the encroaching presences of her young children along with that of The Hound.

The loud knock that reverberated through her chambers was not enough for her to glance away from her lover's blue-grey irises. She had long since arrived at the conclusion that very few things would ever be enough to draw her devote attention away from Sansa, with the obvious exception of Tommen and Myrcella. The amorous gleam that erupted in her SheWolf's unique eyes was extraordinary to behold. A far softer knock on her chamber doors dragged her mind away from Sansa momentarily.

"Cersei, I..." She centred in on the note of devout sincerity, accented by a line of pure sentimentality that made her utterly omit the war raging outside the walls of the Red Keep. She continued to adoringly caress her lover's warm flesh as she waited anxiously for the younger woman's response.

"Whatever you you wish to say Sansa, I suggest you do it now for you won't acquire the opportunity to do so again" She could detect the desperation in the octaves of her own voice, but her statement rang true even in her own ears. She wouldn't have the chance to murmur those forbidden words ever again, to finally reveal exactly what Sansa had come to mean, how important her SheWolf, was to her. And not only to the Queen Regent, but Myrcella and Tommen as well. Her eyes drifted closed as the velvet softness of the younger woman's lips brushed up boldly against her own.

"I love you" Her eyelids flew open as the redhead's admission was whispered against her full red lips, she could feel herself smiling as her heart began to sing a golden tune she had never once heard before. She instinctively leaned forward to recapture her SheWolf's succulent lips, savouring the slight excited gasp she was gifted with.

"When you love someone, you'll do things you know you shouldn't do..." She nipped at her lover's plump lower lip playfully, feeling Sansa's breath quicken revealingly against her. Her approving purr was husky, rumbling in the back of her throat not unlike that of a blissful lioness.

"You'll act the fool, to make them happy, to keep them safe..." Her moist tongue darted out between her full red lips to lap at the seam of the younger woman's mouth with small skilful coquettish touches. She sighed in the back of her throat, feeling both her SheWolf's graceful hands clasp the subtle curve of her hips

"With the blatant exceptions in mind, you are the only person I would ever play the fool for" She felt the torturous ache in her chest suddenly regress into a void of non-existence as she persist in their tender embrace. She may not have voiced the exact words writhing demandingly, rigorously fighting for their freedom but feeling Sansa's enraptured smile as it spread across her SheWolf's ambrosially delicate lips was enough to soothe the rumbustious demands of her inner cognition.

She knew, without casting a glance in the general direction, it was her daring imp of daughter who plucked up the courage necessary to simply push the unlocked doors to her chamber open, the previous interruptions were obviously the result of Sandor and her youngest son's jitteriness of disturbing her. Myrcella slipped into the Queen Regent's rooms with a nervy half smile. She found herself smiling helplessly, noting The Hound and Tommen were far more cautious as they followed suit. Cersei slowly engaged her younger lover in slow yet deep kiss, sensing it would be the last, the warm hands encasing her hips tightened as she tenderly suckled on Sansa's lower lip possessively.

"Your Grace..." She narrowed her eyes, forcing herself to neglect her SheWolf's tempting taste in favour of The Hound's plainly essential tidings. Sandor knew well enough to never disrupt her savoured moments with the younger woman unless it was an affair of life or death.

"This had best hold great importance Sandor" She growled. While Myrcella pounced onto the Queen Regent's canopied bed next to her mother, Tommen, ever the more timid child, waited until he was pulled up onto the majestically carved four poster bed, but not by his mother, by her cherished lover.

"A raven has just this instant delivered a missive..." Sandor pulled a letter free of the various pouches attached to his wide leather belt.

"Bearing the seal of Lord Tywin" Cersei swiftly stalked across her chamber, crossing the expanse of marble flooring and various carpets in minimal matter of purposeful strides and snatching the missive free of her loyal servant's large paw. She caught The Hound swallowing tightly as she ripped open her father's letter, she shared his concerns. Now that she was certain of her emotions, and that they were returned, she was in even less of a hurry to ever be separated from her SheWolf than she had before. Trailing her eyes over her Father's regal penmanship, she found her previous vexations melting away, she handed the letter over to Sandor, allowing her most faithful liege-subject to read the glorious news for himself. Her Lord Father and his armies would arrive within the hour, all she had to do was devise a stratagem to hold the City for one more hour, her Father's instructions detailed as much.

"See that The Imp enigmatically discovers the tunnels beneath the City, I'm sure my guiding hand will not be needed from there" Cersei instructed with her signature smirk falling into place. The Hound crumbled her Lord Father's letter in his gloved palm at her silent gesture.

"Your Grace..." The Hound lowered his head reverently "...Shall I gather the Maester's?" Sandor drawled with a smirk.

"No. We will see how fast the fickle dogs come running once they realise it is still my hand that feeds them" She murmured, sharing The Hound's alleviated smirk as she turned back to her family. The three wide smiles she was greeted with caused a troupe of winged pests to dance jovially in her chest, she heard Myrcella demand a tale to pass the hour as she prowled over to her open window, Sansa's melodious voice caressed her ears as she reached into the sleeve of her crimson dress. She kept her back to her beloved companions as she pulled the small vial of Nightshade free of its confines, with a satisfied grin, she let the tiny bottle and the lethal substance within slip free of her long slender fingers. Distantly hearing the glass shatter with victorious finality.

* * *

><p>"Father..." Cersei drawled her greeting, as Lord Tywin Lannister stalked into the Throne room with an attendance of both Lannister and Tyrell soldiers. She tilted her head, internally noting that Lord Baelish had successfully provided Ser Loras with her vengeful offer. She had always been confident that the Tyrell boy would accept the opportunity to avenge the death of his lover, she had simply doubted whether or not he would arrive in time to sway the tide of battle.<p>

"The battle is over, we have won" Her Father drawled, as though victory had always been a sure thing. She inclined her head respectfully as the Head of House Lannister drew near, his helm tucked under one arm, though she did not rise from the Iron Throne. Her Lord Father's piercing gaze seemed to cut through her cold exterior, she had always felt rather insignificant when under his perceptive scrutiny. She returned his hard look with equal incisiveness.

"Your victory will, no doubt, be praised for months Father" She replied impartially. She recognised the smirk that curved the right corner of his mouth upward, it was the same as her own, only far icier than she would ever achieve.

"As will yours" She lifted her head, accurately reflecting his smirk. If there was one man in the entire Seven Kingdoms capable of reading the motives of her actions from across the realm, it was her Lord Father, to the rest she remained as he had taught her to be, unreadable. A side entrance burst open, she cast the Maester's a disinterested glance as they shuffled in, the Kingsguard following after.

"A magnificent victory Lord Tywin, your prowess is still the inspiration of songs" She didn't care enough to seek out the Maester that had nervously spoken, instead she returned her attention to her Father, in her mind's eye she could envisage a young lion cub carefully skittering around her sire. Dispelling the notion she turned a regal glower onto the Maester's, all of them glanced from herself to her Father, desperately searching for the silent words passing between them.

"It was a victory. Nothing more" Her Lord Father's cold rebuff of the complement directed at him seemed to cast shards of ice through the vast Throne Room, chilling the very air. She smirked in response to her father's biting rejection of extolment from those he deemed trivial, while numerous pairs of eyes found themselves attached to her.

"The reason you have been summoned here, is not to state the obvious..." She spat, sensing her Father's concealed amusement from her abrasive hiss.

"It is to give witness. Let it be known from the Summer sea to the Wall in the North and beyond. That I, Queen Cersei of House Lannister, Lady of Casterly Rock, do hereby renounce my eldest son, Joffrey Baratheon and disavow him of his natural rights and inheritances owed to him from both Houses Lannister and Baratheon. From this moment forth, the Iron Throne is mine"

**TBC. . .**

**AN: Yeah I'm not even gonna bother trying to estimate when I'll be updating again because chances are I'll be wrong, again. But at least the Holidays are coming up pretty soon, so hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up just as quick. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Game of thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.

**Chapter Ten.**

It was truly astounding. How swift the news of Joffrey's fall from power, and of Cersei's consequent ascension, had spread throughout the Red Keep. Her eldest son's personalised banners, depicting a combination of Houses Lannister and Baratheon, had already been stripped from the labyrinth of halls to be replaced by the lone sigil of her Noble House. To the best of her knowledge, which several of her 'birds' further supported. All the evidence of Joffrey's rule, with the sole exception of the boy himself, was being methodically sought out and gathered into a sizeable heap out in the main courtyard, it's entirety was to be burned at nightfall, during an expansive celebration marking the beginning of her reign, like putrid rags harbouring plague.

Her Lord Father had taken the liberty of ordering all of her Household servants to begin their tireless work a small handful of hours after the Battle had reached its eventful culmination, they weren't to be granted a single reprieve until the Keep had been properly cleansed. Now, when it was barely passed sunrise, the inhabitants of King's Landing spoke of Joffrey's rule as though it had perforated years ago, when it actuality, it hadn't even been six hours. Such a short time frame. It was as though she were standing at a crumbling mountain edge watching a new dawn as it rapidly peaked before her. The question being widely whispered among the Lords and Ladies of her Court along with the Maesters, was whether she would retain her legendary balance in such matters, or if she would be pitched forward and into an unknown abyss of dubiety. Such inanity on behalf of her 'advisor's'.

The fools thought her unprepared for the task she had set herself, when in truth, she held no end of plans to achieve her objectives. They all thought her faux tempestuous nature in charge of her decisions, they thought she would overlook their disrespectful slander of her family if only they bowed lower than ever before and poured an excess of perfumed words into her ears.

She would revel in displaying how incorrect they really were. Now that she sat on the Iron Throne, there was none that could stand in her way, none that could stop her from purging all the Seven Kingdoms of any spiteful traitors who dared to degrade those she held dear, and she would do so in her own way. The Lioness would lure imbecilic vultures into her open mouth regardless of the lethally sharp teeth they could plainly see gleaming with majestic distinction, and through their blind arrogance they wouldn't even sense her cunning retaliation until she had clamped her jaws shut around them. She would allow them to see the folly of their accusations, she would prove the legitimacy of her beloved children, though such a thing should never have come into question in the first place, then she would take her justified vengeance on them. One at a time. Only House Stark would be spared the clearing rake of her pointed claws, instead, she would hold the wolves in her poised paws until she was satisfied that they would no longer challenge her reign. She would have unity through the only means she knew of. Patient Cunning.

"I, Cersei of House Lannister, first of my name, rightful Queen of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and Lady Of Casterly Rock name my father, Lord Tywin Lannister, saviour of the City and Hand of the Queen" She drawled disinterestedly as she pressed the gelded brooch onto the satin ornamental rest offered up by a well dressed servant. She met her father's crystalline blue eyes as he stared back at her with equal neutrality in regards to the official ceremony going on around them. The fact her Lord Father, and now her Lord Hand, had decided to remain straddling his pristine white stallion during his observance only served to affirm the concept. His contempt for pomp and ceremony must certainly be considered an inherited trait, for she held no stock in it either.

"Thank you Your Grace" Her father's deep baritone echoed around the Throne Room, her stoic mask did not shift as she watched, from her lawful place on the overwhelmingly majestic Iron Throne, at the head of her amassed nobles, assembled for the sole reason of bearing witness to the new regime, as Lord Tywin retrieved the prestigious brooch, identifying him as the Queen's Hand, never once did he break her gaze nor her his. A small inclination of his silvering head was the only true recognition she received from her father as he urged his white stallion to turn away, the sound of clogging hooves against cold stone resounded loudly. She couldn't resist a small smirk as she stared after her father's retreating back. The sea of vultures observing the interaction between father and daughter would marque it cold, distant, utterly lacking in kindred warmth. And they were entirely correct, for once, but what they did not see was the clear message her father sent her with nothing more than a flash of his distant eyes. They were to have an arduous conversation when the gossip hungry masses had been appropriately fed and dismissed.

"Lord Petyr Baelish, step forth..." She rested both her elegant hands on either armrest as she observed from on high as the Master of Coin brazenly strode forward from the crowd of other nobles, clad in his typically dark wear, far less extravagant than those around him.

"...I dispatched you to the Baratheon encampments little over a week ago, did I not?" She arched a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow mockingly. The masses all stared at Baelish as though they were shocked he could possibly keep such a ambrosian morsel of information from them.

"I believe it to be so Your Grace" The Master of Coin confirmed, clasping his hands together and inclining his dark head. Unlike his peers Baelish knew to be wary of her after their impromptu conversation on the topic of true power.

"By my estimation you had more than enough time to complete your duty to the Crown and report back to me, would you, or would you not, agree?" He wouldn't be foolish enough to differ, even before she was instated as Queen of Westeros, it wasn't her title the vultures feared, but her very nature itself, and they were right to. She couldn't tolerate anyone with such little morality that they would happily betray those closest to them in order to surpass the next blathering fool ahead of them in the hierarchy.

"Wholeheartedly Your Grace" Baelish smiled courteously, she could perceive from the slight frown marring his brow and the lines of tension suddenly becoming apparent in the tightening of his compact shoulders that he was beginning to feel ill at ease due to the inclination of her questioning. At least he was intelligent enough to sense when she was irritated, the crowd behind him was certainly incapable of knowing when to speak and when to be silent.

"And yet you failed to do so..." She sneered, watching as all traces of Baelish's arrogant demeanour promptly deflated under the weight of her scornful glare, like a panicked rabbit scurrying deep into it's burrow for fear of the lioness tauntingly snapping at its heels.

"...But I am not without appreciation for the completion of the task I set you, as a result, your monthly stipend will be increased twofold" Her signature smirk fell into place, tilting the left corner of her sensuous mouth upwards, as Littlefinger's shoulders noticeably slumped with abject disappointment. She was well aware that he, like so many others of late, held designs upon Harrenhal, the largest castle in all of Westeros located North West of King's Landing, though it was left in ruins after the War of Conquest. Even she had plans for the supposedly cursed fortress, the only difference being, her plans would grant her no personal gain.

"Your Grace is most generous" Baelish respectfully bowed at the waist before he melted back into the throng of nobles present. She could barely withhold her wicked grin, the crestfallen expression transforming Littlefinger's face into a reserved mask of dashed hopes and subdued ire would ensure Baelish's determination to achieve further favour with her. She would give it a day or two before he approached her to discuss the economic factors concerning reparations to the Mud Gate and an additional week before the wall saw itself reinforced beyond the comprehension of her predecessors and at a much smaller price. She merely wondered how long it would require the Master of Coin to realise he had been manipulated.

"Ser Loras Tyrell, step forward..." Cersei lazily gestured for the bereaved knight to stand before her assembled Guard, most notably The Hound among them, the imposing forms of Lannister soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, armoured gloves on the pommels of their swords, separating the upraised dais the Iron Throne graced from the masses several feet below.

"...You have shown yourself to possess more intellect than your forefathers by swearing fealty to my House. In acknowledgement of this, it is my promise that it will be your sword that claims the head of the traitor Stannis Baratheon." She felt a twitch of sympathy in her sternum when she caught the genuinely grateful gleam in Ser Loras' empty brown eyes. It was odd when she'd never felt anything but disdain for the young knight, reverently kneeling before her, his thankless attitude regarding his relationship with Renly had always been a sore subject where she was concerned. After all it was one thing for a man, high born or low born, to find pleasure with his own gender but quite another for a woman to do the same. She had despised their unawareness like she detested duplicitous imbeciles.

"Your Grace humbles me with your benignity. If I could possibly incur but a little more of your generosity?" Ser Loras murmured, almost pleadingly. She could hardly believe this was the same charismatic knight that had once audaciously strutted through her halls, this was a mere shell of that very same person.

"Speak quickly and I may consider your request" She leaned back in the Iron Throne, not for the first time, she noted the imposing seat of power was just as uncomfortable as her late husband had once remarked it to be. She would have to call an adjournment to this dragging assembly lest her thoughts stray away from the matters at hand and toward her own physical vexations.

"I wondered if you might consider tying our Houses together, with a bond far stronger than simple words" Ser Loras glanced up from the crimson carpet running from the arched entranceway to the back of the Throne Room behind her to fleetingly meet her jade irises. The crowd behind the reverentially positioned knight began to whisper fervently amongst themselves, how could they think for one moment that their murmured speculations were impalpably voiced.

"Silence..." She hissed venomously, instantly the vultures fell quiet as though the force of her sharp snarl had ripped their tongues from their mouths.

"...Elaborate, and do so swiftly Ser Loras for my patience wears thin" She centred her attention, once more, upon the young knight.

"My sister, Margaery, her husband was taken from us before, that is, she is still pure Your Grace" Ser Loras stammered as though a lump had just formed in his throat. She cast a glance in the direction of the woman in question, she could feel a disbelieving smirk appear over her stoic mask as she examined the object Ser Loras suggestion centred around. No virginal girl would dear to don a dress with such a low neckline, clearly the Knight of the Rose didn't understand women in the slightest.

"Such an oddity deserves a royal partner..." She sneered sarcastically in the same instant she promptly began to consider all the consequences of her next decision at an abnormal pace and precision. Margaery Tyrell was pure in the same existence she was paradigm of compassion, but this arrangement would serve her more essential purposes. Warmth blossomed in her chest like a flower in the Spring, her eyes gleamed amorously, only by minding her surroundings and the eyes latched onto her did she manage to smother her smile.

"...If Lady Tyrell is in agreement, she will be wedded to my eldest son, Prince Joffrey, in the stead of Lady Stark" The aghast gasps that loudly emitted from the crowd was almost comical, like the prospect of severing a marriage vow was the most atrocious and immoral act she had ever done, how little they knew.

"Your Grace, your son pledged-" Grand Maester Pycelle began to speak, a single icy glare suppressed his 'advisement'. She could not stomach the thought of her SheWolf being tied to Joffrey, or anyone else, for a single moment longer, the idea alone was enough to inspire mindless rage. Anger burned beneath her pale flesh as her fists begged to be clenched, but she refused to let her majestic demeanour to fade.

"My word is law, and I say Sansa Stark belongs to another..." As much as she desired, in that moment when the Courtiers traded looks of mystification and dazedness, to unveil the truth of her relationship with her SheWolf. There was much to be discussed first, though she knew the wait would soon reach its end, before long all of the Seven Kingdoms would recognise Sansa as her concubine. She almost allowed her icy exterior to melt under the, now familiar, warmth that manifested inside her chest, the deliciously intoxicating sensation was only strengthened, now, that she could confidently give it a name at last.

"What say you Lady Tyrell?" Cersei snapped impatiently, she had been away from her cherished lover and her beloved children for far too long, even she had noticed it was beginning to effect her mood in a non too pleasant way. Only the soothing influence of her treasured family could provide her with the essential assuasive element she was in desperate need of before she closed herself inside the Council chambers for the day's remainder.

"It would be an honour Your Grace, I have long admired Joffrey-" Cersei elegantly rose up from the Iron Throne with an expression of dismissive contempt, the Tyrell girl's no doubt extensively practised speech readily lapsed, allowing the muffled sound of her footfalls to dominate the tensioned Court as she gracefully descended the dais.

"A word of advice girl, learn how to properly fabricate a falsity" Her Guard's defensive formation fell apart as she smoothly stalked passed them, her derisive hiss had Margery observably blanching. The Queen rolled her eyes sardonically as she strode down the length of the vast Chamber, her personal guards dutifully marched behind her in a two by two placement.

* * *

><p>The Queen sat at her ornately carved oak desk in her equally elaborate chamber, having been frustratingly intercepted on her way out into the gardens, the sunlight filtered into her rooms through the huge gelded window pane behind her high-backed chair, her Lord Father, Tywin Lannister, sat across from her, both held a regal posture and indecipherable expression. Under her Father's sharp silent scrutiny restlessness had blossomed, like living flames under her pale skin, but she resisted allowing her stoic exterior to falter, even if she was certain her Father's frightening perceptive gaze had already pierced the layers of black ice she'd fortified her outward responses with. Just as the elder Lannister had trained her when she was nothing more than a child. Despite this, it was all she could do not to demand an end to this charade of who truly possessed the upper hand so that she could spend at least an hour or so with the three people she cared about most before she was coerced back into the Council Chambers for Gods only knew how long to discuss the pressing matters of state.<p>

"Shall we begin..." It wasn't a question. Her Father never issued inquiries, nor did he demand answers, for the most part he could dissect the object of his examination to such an extent that he knew what their hasty replies would entail. This made the piece of parchment, quill and ink well set out before him, not only, seem redundant but almost somewhat amusing.

"The Order of Succession" Her Father spoke slowly but clearly, like a jailer interrogating his prisoner, or a Lion toying with his prey to gain the response he desired. It was much the same when she was young, whenever she came into contact with him, which was never often nor was it a comfortable experience. It was odd to be on the incurring end of his mannerisms once more, even more, when she considered hers were no different.

"It is an unspoken fact that Joffrey must never again come to power, after his marriage to the Tyrell girl he will receive a minimal monthly income from the Crown, it is my intention for them both to reside at Highgarden. When Stannis' repulsive head graces the Wall of Traitors, I will instate Tommen as Head of House Baratheon, Lord of both Storm's End and of Harrenhal-" While she loved both Tommen and Myrcella equally, she knew precisely which of her precious cubs would make the better monarch when she was no more, but she would not see the other lacking in assets.

"Why not name him your heir, it is only natural for the second born son to claim what the elder is denied" Her oval shaped jaw clenched tightly, she could not recall the last instant a living person had dared to interrupt her, she'd had people executed, tortured or both for far less. But this was Tywin Lannister. None were viewed as his equal, therefore, worthy of his prolonged attention or respect. Not even her.

"Tommen is too kind hearted, while I will ever support this to be his greatest strength, it is also his enfeebling weakness. If he were to sit upon the Iron Throne, he would be ruled by others-" As she explained her thought process, she never broke her deadlock stare with her Lord Father, she couldn't confidently decrypt if her show of strength amused or irritated her Lord Hand. Never before had she experienced difficulty interpreting an individual's motives, some of her victims would even confirm that she had almost been privy to their innermost thoughts.

"Agreed" She bit her tongue to prevent herself from verbally lashing out at her Lord Father, it required hefty control on her part and she could feel the cost of her restraint beckoning a painful ache to throb in her temples. Involuntarily, her fingers dug into the unyielding oak armrests as the Head of her House gestured for her to continue as though she nothing more than a servant, an inconvenience to obtain orders and then be promptly dismissed. Her furious Lioness clawed at her, prowling back and forth beneath her pale skin, demanding the retribution she would typically seize upon. She wouldn't invoke his wrath, not for fear that she wouldn't see his retaliation, though it was likely she wouldn't, but her energies needed to be directed toward her family and unifying the Kingdoms. The latter would be made easier with her Father, her teacher and mentor, at her side.

"Myrcella will be my successor, her will is stronger than both her brother's and she has already begun her instructions in politics" She almost smiled lovingly at the mention of her children, until she recalled exactly whose presence she was in. There was no room for sentiment of any kind when Tywin Lannister was near, and most certainly when handling official matters with her Lord Father.

"With the correct teachings, Myrcella will make a somewhat adequate Queen someday, I will procure your former mentors for the honour of furthering her education..." She was sure she could feel blood begin to seep from her nail-beds as her fingers bit harder into her armrests, still, she held her tongue. It wouldn't do to insult her Father, like her late husband before her, she needed his financial reinforcement while the royal coffers remained pitifully reduced. And while she would rather die than admit it aloud, there was a small fraction of her that still, after all the years of being cast aside as something trivial, desired nothing more than her Father's approval. She felt a cynical smirk toy with the corner of her mouth, she'd long since reached the conclusion that absolutely no one would ever fulfil the expectations set by Tywin Lannister.

"The Kingsguard"

"Upon Jaime's return I will dissolve it and those same men will be reformed into my Queensguard" She leaned back in her high-backed chair when her Lord Hand remained silent across the desk from her. Outside, a blanket of pristine white clouds blocked out the glaring sun, casting a slight chill through her vast chambers.

"And how do you intend to ensure the return of your brother, when we only possess half the requisite bounty needed to barter with the Stark's" Her Father drawled impartially. Her signature smirk ghosted across her full red lips as she stared perceptively across her desk, her Lord Hand would never approach the subject of his eldest son in such a callous manner. Tywin Lannister was many things, and none of them good, but he always protected those of his House with the same fierce passion she had inherited. Which left the question of what he had planned.

"Worry not Father..." Her smirk adopted a cold edge as their tenacious gazes drew to a stalemate that showed no signs, from either participant, of ever allowing one to seize dominion over the other.

"By week's end, not only will Jaime be publicly reinstated as Lord Commander, but I will have Robb Stark swearing fealty to me with the entire court standing as witnesses." She promised with deliberate obscureness. Savouring the irked gleam that sparked to life in her Father's frozen eyes. She didn't appreciate being made to feel like a neglected child, something only Tywin Lannister could ever revert her to, this obscure declaration served to remind her Father of exactly who she had been moulded into.

This was the Game Of Thrones, and she, Cersei Lannister, had just become the centrepiece.

* * *

><p>"Your Grace" The Hound's gruff recognition of her presence as she stalked out into the gardens drew the attention of every set of eyes, out of two dozen, there were only four pairs that she bothered to acknowledge.<p>

"Sandor" She murmured quietly as she elegantly brushed passed her most loyal liege-subject. The very instant she joined her lover and weary son, settling into a low-backed chair at a circular table with a wide diameter, she was pounced on by her daughter.

"Mother, why do you not wear a crown?" Unable to help her fond laugh, brought on by Myrcella's typical bluntness, from escaping her full red lips, the Queen allowed the lilting sound to break through her icy demeanour as she pulled her daughter into her lap.

"Tell me darling, what purpose does a Crown serve?" She retorted, snaking her lithe arm around her cub's waist as the young Princess settled against her. Tilting her head, she found Tommen, mirroring a similar pose with her SheWolf, half asleep with his head resting on Sansa's shoulder. Beneath the table, she blindly sought out the younger woman's hand, she entwined their long slender fingers together once she had finally located her lover's palm and rested their conjoined limbs upon the redhead's toned thigh.

"A crown is a symbol of authority" She shared a tender smile with Sansa, as a sense of tranquil fulfilment took over her, just as she had predicted when the tenacious business of usurping had began at the break dawn. The close proximity of her beloved companions gifted her with a soothing disposition, that washed away the day's tediousness almost instantaneously. She hastily returned her attention to her curious cub, staring wide-eyed back her, expecting an answer to the most innocent of questions.

"We are Lions my little cub, to symbolise our authority, we need only Roar..." She pressed a loving kiss to Myrcella's naturally pale forehead, waiting and watching for her daughter to grasp her meaning. The adorable frown that signalled Myrcella's consumption in her thoughts allowed her a brief reprieve from her cub's endless questions.

"Which we cannot do if we falling prey to drowsiness" Cersei turned her head to smile lovingly at her youngest son, Tommen giggled quietly in response, but never once did he lift his head from her lover's slender shoulder. Had she seen her cub clinging to anyone else she would have torn them apart, as it stood, watching her son embrace Sansa provoked nothing short of tender devotion to stir in her chest.

"Myrcella was loath to allow him any further rest once she awoke" Sansa's pale wolf eyes gleamed with mirthful affection, beneath the table she traced lazy circles over the younger woman's pulse point with her thumb.

"It has always been so" She murmured gently. Her youngest children had an unbreakable bond with one another, much like the familial love she bore for her twin, but whereas her relationship with Jaime had shifted from strength to strength ever since they were crawling on all fours. Myrcella and Tommen had first cohered to each other for fear of their older sibling, that fact would never cease to pain her, she had always wished for her cubs to depend on each other equally. Something that would never come to pass. The unexpected tightness in her chest caught her unawares, as she cradled her daughter close and discreetly held her lover's hand, she pondered on the subject of her elder child, still firmly confined inside his chambers under heavy guard.

"Sansa, are you to remain here, with us at King's Landing, forever?" She was drawn out of her troubled musing by the chirping of her young son, Tommen spoke quietly, as was his way, but even so he soon had the devote attention of his sister. Cersei felt a satisfied smirk tilt her lips upwards as she slowly became aware of The Hound's hulking figure behind her, apparently even Sandor wished to receive her SheWolf's response. But as anxiety slowly began to swim in the younger woman's pale irises, she felt compelled to intervene on Sansa's behalf.

"That she is my darling" Sending a sideways glance toward Tommen, she found her young son gifting her with a tired yet elated smile as he leaned further into her lover, his eyes drifted closed as if by their own will. Sansa's eyes met her jade coloured irises, the warmth that radiated from her SheWolf was far more welcoming than the summer sun after a long and gruelling winter. Myrcella's pleased laughter tickled her ear while her daughter slipped off her lap, she tracked her cub out the corner of her eyes as the young Princess approached Duchess, the pristine white and grey dire wolf was growling pathetically up at a domineering oak tree, a little ways away, as if willing the pesky squirrel high up in its branches to hop down and into her mouth.

"What of my family?" The soft spark of tenderness in the younger woman's eyes dimmed somewhat as she began to nibble on her lower lip nervously. She despised the abrupt misery that found its way, creeping into being, extinguishing the warmth, that she had come to adore, in her lover's pale irises.

"You have my word that you will see them before the week's end and many times after..." She promised sincerely, she savoured the appreciative smile she was gifted with as warmth was rekindled in her SheWolf's beautifully pale eyes, she affectionately squeezed her lover's hand beneath the table. Plotting and scheming were her claws and fangs, she would lure Robb and Catelyn Stark into the her den, where she would keep them until they, along with every Northerner, had bent the knee at last.

"But, you should be aware my little SheWolf, I will never let you leave this City, the South is your home now." She had no intention of severing Sansa's contact with her, obviously beloved, family, but it would never be safe for her to travel North, no matter what number of guards she protected herself with, and she knew on an instinctive level that she couldn't endure a single day away from the younger woman. The past months were proof enough of that. Besides, even if she were to allow the redhead to journey North, she wouldn't trust the Stark's not to attempt keeping Sansa away from her. Knots frantically tightened in her stomach, making her feel ill at the mere thought, she couldn't possibly risk that, not now and not ever.

She was a Lioness, and Lions mate for life.

**TBC . . .**

**AN: I hope you all enjoyed reading, personally I'm not a hundred percent happy with this Chapter but I couldn't keep you waiting any longer. Maybe its just me, I had to nitpick all of my coursework****,**** over the past couple of weeks, which by the way is why I didn't update sooner, ****sorry about the delay but its been one hectic thing after another recently****. ****Okay, e****nough rambling from me, thoughts? ;****D**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Game of Thrones or anything else associated with the show or the books.

**Chapter Eleven.**

Lions may not be on the best of terms with Wolves, and by The Queen's estimation the chances of a solid reconciliation ever occurring during her lifetime could not be considered probable, but at present, Cersei could find no words better to describe the sudden and detestable drop in the clime's temperature than those belonging to the Whelps in the North; 'Winter Is Coming'.

Standing tall in the colossal Throne Room's vast upper gallery, guarded solely by stoic-faced Sandor, her full red lips tilted up into an acerbic smirk as she gazed out one of the numerous gilded windows at Black Water Bay and the surrounding areas. It had been three days since the Battle, and most of the evidence had been eradicated, just like the attest to Joffrey's disastrous rule. The Queen's signature smirk stayed in place as she silently observed the comings and goings of ships, possessing varied styles and purposes, as they gilded in and out of the bustling harbour, and the commoners going about their business, like a Lioness studies a herd of prey too mundane to earn much attention. Her gaze was cold and distant as she mused what good old Ned Stark would think of her using his family's lifelong locution, a Northern saying from the mouth of a Southerner. Her lover's beloved father being so fond of maintaining that distinction between the two regions. And perhaps Eddard had been right in secluding himself away at Winterfell after Robert's Rebellion, the South was an infamous vulture's nest whereas the North still held some honour, a view shared by most Westerosi, still it was a boundary she would soon demolish, permanently. Peace was dream, a shimmering aspiration that would eventually fade, something only a child placed any faith in. Control, however was a very real prospect, the strongest she'd ever known.

As Queen she would bring unification in every sense of the word, that was her main goal, a fact she had made clear on many an occasion during her council meetings in the previous days. She'd merely neglected to mention during her audiences with the Lords that she intended to remove any individuals, accountable for slandering her family, from power. It wouldn't be long before she had all of the Seven Kingdoms by their contemptuous throats, neither one of them would be capable of breathing for fear of fatally nicking their jugulars on her deadly fangs. Her schemes were well under way and, for the moment, working in perfect synchronisation with the political stratagems employed by her Lord Father, a dreaded combination to any opposition. Though she had yet to inform the Head of her House precisely what her plans entailed, or confirmed that any even existed. She wasn't overly shocked, after all, if there was one person in the known world with the pointed cunning to appraise her decisions before she enacted them, it was Tywin Lannister. At present her intents ran parallel to her Lord Hand's, however she knew instinctively that it would not remain so for much longer. Their interests always became conflicted, a clear testament that two strong personalities truly couldn't exist together all that comfortably, though their ultimate aim never differed. They were both devoted to securing the Eternal Legacy of House Lannister, they merely stalked along differing paths in their lifelong hunt.

It was just one of many ways in which she appeared as a proud reflection of the elder Lannister. From a young age she had strived to make her Father proud of her and her achievements, his opinions had been laws unto her. It was only natural that she had idolised her Lord Hand, as she had lacked any, softer, parental figure. She had often wondered what she would be like, had her mother lived to influence her, but her pondering was fleeting, she could not envision herself ever conforming to the traditional representation of women. The Ladies of Westeros were weak by every known definition, politically, financially, sociably, they were Hens among Foxes, and Cersei found it disgusting. For that reason she was grateful to her Lord Father's unintentional teachings, his lack of any sentimentality had made her strong. But as of late she had noted another apparent similarity between herself and her Father, one she recognised and embraced. The Head of House Lannister had only ever been know to smile when he was within close proximity to her much beloved mother, he had truly adored Lady Joanna with every fibre of his being. The fateful day of Tyrion's birth had seen her Father's heart torn out of his chest, and ambition firmly wedged into the gaping hole, the other Lannister had never smiled again. She had always been sceptical regarding the lasting love her parents had bore for each other, the idea of needing someone so much that one's heart ceased to beat without them had seemed entirely preposterous. Until she had finally found it with Sansa.

She would soon lure Robb and Catelyn Stark further South to the Capital, and she would ensure they both bend the knee volitionally, that was a certainty. But she was apprehensive concerning what the elder Stark's would demand of her SheWolf, upon their long awaited reunion. No matter what punishment she visited upon the Northerners, be it harsh or implausibly lenient, the Stark's wouldn't cease until every member of their House was returned to Winterfell. She respected their devotion to one another, if she were in their position and they in hers, the situation would be no different. But she couldn't allow it, she had already admitted as much to her younger lover and her SheWolf was just as unwilling to leave her side. But Robb Stark was truly his Father's son, the young Whelp wouldn't stand for the boundary between the noble North and spiteful South to become blurred. When she asserted that Sansa was to stay with her at King's Landing, against their wishes, the act would only serve to strengthen the Stark's conviction against her. It was problematic, a dark shadow on her plans for unification, as she had promised Sansa that the younger woman would retain a healthy relationship with her family, and she would always keep the promises made to those she cared for. The Stark's hatred of her was not without a solution.

If she were her Father, she would have them all butchered like the feral animals they had shown themselves to be and attach the blame to another of her opponents, Stannis Baratheon being the obvious choice. But she wasn't Tywin Lannister, she didn't fulfil his expectations of her, and she had grown tired of even trying. She certainly hadn't gone hunting for love when she'd taken her SheWolf to her bed, at the beginning she had merely sought to satisfy her ravenous lust and curiosity, just as she had done with all of her previous lovers. But the illusive emotion she always harboured a certain degree of dubiety for had crossed her path, and now she coveted it's longevity. She would do everything possible to spare Sansa any type of distress or pain, and would continue to do so until the end of her days, pressuring her lover's family into submitting to her authority, regardless of the method, was the only possible option that provided her with further political advantage in the realm and that guaranteed her lover's gentle feelings weren't harmed. She could only imagine what the Stark's and their ultimately inept Bannermen would label her when she openly claimed Sansa as her Paramour, a revelation she would soon unveil, but it wasn't of much significance to her. As her Lord Hand constantly reminded; 'Lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep'.

Given the time and certain resources she knew well the lengths Tywin Lannister would go to in order to quell the rebellion, the route he would take was made possible by the Stark boy's doltish decision to break his vow of troth to Lord Walder Frey and instead marry a foreigner. Cersei had been helpless against considering the use of brutal tactics herself in the passing weeks, she had grown so very weary of the realm's chaotic state, if she were not so affectionate of her SheWolf, she would have already arranged for the same swift and sanguineous misfortune to befall her enemies. Despite what her icy instincts advised, she wouldn't have her lover's family publicly executed for their treason, for lover's sake alone, but she would make Robb and Catelyn Stark forever beholden unto her, personally. She would reduce the Wolves into Sheep. And by doing so, she would strip them of the assets necessary to challenge her authority, even in the slightest capacity, ever again.

They all played the Game of Thrones, but unfortunately for her feebleminded opponents, who even now foolishly believed she could still be bested, she had already won. Now all that remained, was for the Lioness of House Lannister to sink her claws into her prey, one by one.

"Sandor..." An emotionless gleam made the Queen's eyes appear colder than polished gemstones bathed in moonlight, her melodic voice fostered an ice cold edge as she addressed her most loyal liege-subject. Never once tearing her gaze away from the bustling harbour. Behind her on the awe inspiring Throne Room's vast upper gallery The Hound tilted his head, silently awaiting her instruction.

"...Go to the barracks and escort those negligible soldiers I sent in search of Arya Stark to the dungeons. You know my mind on this matter, do you not?" Cersei purred. She had dispatched twenty men, over a month ago, to safely deliver her lover's younger sister into her custody, as she had promised Sansa. Not only had they failed to succeed in the task she assigned to them, her eyes along the King's Road reported the worthless ingrates had spent the majority of their time cloistered inside a brothel, presuming she would never discover their indolence. She was a Lannister, even an honest failure was unacceptable and inexcusable to her, as such this grave insult certainly could not go unanswered, and it would be met with blood. The trackers would soon learn how deeply mistaken they had been to think she wouldn't get word of their willful inactivity, and the calamitous consequences of their stupidity would be lethally austere. Castration seemed a fitting punishment for their insult, and she knew of no one better to see her will carried out than Sandor. The Hound was most creative in the ways of physical torment.

"I give you my word Your Grace, those useless bastards will wish their mothers had never spawned them into this world" Sandor's sadistic smirk urged one of her own into being. She glanced over her slender shoulder, clothed in the finest Lannister red silk, she noted a hunger for blood smouldering deep in Sandor's dark brown eyes. A confident smile ghosted across her full red lips.

"Do what you will with the footsoldiers, but you will take their Captain and hold him in my chambers until my arrival. After seeing that he is properly 'attended' to in my stead, of course. Then you will stand watch over Sansa for the remainder of the day. Am I understood?" She arched a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow sardonically. Her orders were a formality, she had found herself to be of a like-mind with The Hound when regarding incompetence, words were not needed to convey her message, as they both responded to deliberate inability with violence.

"I will see it done, Your Grace, but you should not be without guards" Cersei narrowed her jade coloured eyes on the hulking man, watching him vividly pale under her hard stare, but The Hound wasn't the target of her irritation.

She wasn't foolish enough to ignore the unsubtle fact the Kingsguard, yet to be officially reformed into her Queensguard, had been reduced to a pack trounced dogs on some out of sight chain linking back directly to her Father. At the end of every day, each man, with the exception of Sandor, went scurrying to her Lord Hand with reports of her activities. The oppression of Tywin Lannister's scrutiny was stifling, the fact her Father made no attempt to conceal his examination of her was just as maddening as it was amusing. How many times had she herself manipulated the escorts of her enemies into feeding her vital information that she could then store away to use against them at a later date?. She was accustomed to verbal sparing, umbrageous and vicious plotting and the greatly beneficial victories that inevitably became hers for the taking as a result of her impelling schemes, but it seemed like forever since she was faced with an equal, possessing skills, and the strength of will to use them, tantamount to her own. Regardless, she relished the opportunity to test her will against that of her Father, she understood his motivations to a profound depth no other could grasp. That was her linchpin. Finally she relented her paralysing glare, feeling a twinge of guilt in her chest when she caught The Hound attempting to unsuccessfully conceal a sigh of sheer relief. She knew how intimidating her cold stare was, she had inherited the look from her Father and she had suffered the same immobilizing fear beneath it, even now when she was the predominant authority in the Seven Kingdoms, the crushing effect of the elder Lannister's gaze remained the same.

"You are dismissed..." Cersei returned her attention outward, toward the harbour of King's Landing once more. Small remnants of damage persisted from the Battle, most of it was hardly discernible, several wrecked ships from the Baratheon fleet were still being dragged from the Bay and the Mud Gate was yet to be repaired up to Baelish's promised standards. But at least the people of King's Landing were no longer making a nuisance of themselves. She wondered if the inflamed lesions created by her eldest son's pointless cruelty had finally been soothed now that she had denounced Joffrey and instated herself as Queen or if this was just the calm before the storm. In the end it mattered little, she had already decreed that any sign of disruption from the people would be dealt with swiftly and savagely. She would never again risk rioting to break out in the Capital or any other region. The memories of the last minor insurrection in Flea Bottom were still scorched in her mind's eye, the feel of being drenched in blood and acidic fear burning in through her veins, churning into thick knots within her stomach. She steeled herself, dispelling the plaguing retentions, it wouldn't do to rile her temper, bearing in mind, where matters of state would take her this morn. Sandor's retreating footfalls hardly caressed her ears as he left her side to ensure her commands were seen to. A smile was slow to curve the Queen's luscious mouth upwards.

"...And Sandor..." The muscular man paused instantaneously, several metres down the elaborately decorated gallery, and turned around to face her once more, his eyes averted respectfully, she remained still as a gracefully sculpted statue, her attention stayed trained on the view before her as she spoke commandingly.

"...When order is restored to the Realm, I will have you knighted for your unwavering service, and the loyalty you have shown me and mine" To have The Hound serve in the Kingsguard and yet deny Sandor the title of 'Ser', especially when considering the bulky man's exemplary service and emblematic skill with a blade was a foolish and inexcusable discourtesy from Joffrey. Her eldest son had seen Sandor as nothing more than an inferior being, and by making The Hound the only man in history to serve in the Kingsguard without being knighted, reinforced his misguided belief. It was an absolute travesty, a derisory wrong on Joffrey's part that she intended to correct, by having Sandor elevated to the appropriate rank, The Hound had more than earned it, many times over and she appreciated his allegiant feats. Cersei cocked her head, a small smile tilted the right corner of her mouth upward, the gratitude shinning brightly in his dark brown eyes was truly endearing, though unneeded, she was simply mending the abundant damage inflicted by one of Joffrey's idiotic decisions. A lengthy and tiresome task, and yet it was astutely important for reasons she should no longer concern herself with, she had renounced her eldest son.

"Now begone from my sight, we both have much work to do this day" The Queen snapped, releasing an irked sigh when The Hound had departed, silently disappearing from the Throne Room's upper gallery. The Queen lifted her head, the long silken blonde fall of her hair fell over her shoulders, she swept her disinterestedly analytical eyes over the harbour once more. The embodied impairments of the battle had all but been repaired, however there was still one specific residuum that called for her personal, ruthless, attention.

* * *

><p>Despite the mid-morning sun blaring down on the Capital from its deep blue canopy overhead, the wintry chill was still perceptible. The Queen mentally made a note to address the preparations needed to brace against the approaching Winter, it was undeniably an urgent matter, but hardly the most pressing at that exact moment in time. Flanked by Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount, Cersei waited impatiently but without any glimmer of emotion, nor any other sign of her internal vexation, outside a worn timber door.<p>

"Who is it?" She resisted the urge to smirk. The nervousness in Tyrion's voice, emitting from the other side of the poorly crafted chamber entrance, was all too clear in her ears, even with The Imp's attempts to sound unagitated. She slipped both of her magnolia pale hands into either of her fashionably flared sleeves, entwining her long slender fingers.

"Its your sister, the Queen" Cersei tilted her head curiously when heard a peculiar shuffling sound on the other side of the closed chamber door. She rolled her jade coloured eyes discreetly, as recognition dawned on her, she knew exactly what the delay entailed. The Dwarf was taking a precaution, finally he showed a small measure of independent intelligence, for Tyrion's sake, this usual occurrence had better hold. Finally she allowed herself to smirk sardonically when a square crevice carved into the thin timber door slid open, the lack of light in the pitiable accommodations she had reassigned The Imp to in the wake of battle prevented her from seeing much of anything, save a pair of wary blue orbs.

"What are they doing here?" Tyrion trained a suspicious eye on Ser Meryn and Ser Boros, trailing his irises over their sheathed broadswords, she nearly laughed as she observed, through the eyelet, as The Imp swallowed fearfully, her signature smirk widened slowly when Tyrion's attention returned to her. He was right to be scared, but not of her guards as he appeared to be.

"Protecting me, I assume..." She drawled sarcastically. Her brother stared at her a moment, she lifted her head, studying his expression through the locked door's open crevice. Like two lions assessing each other for any apparent weaknesses, the first move in their Game of Wits.

"...Come now Imp, if I wanted to kill you, do you honestly think I would allow a locked door to stop me?. Let me in"

"They stay outside" Tyrion inserted firmly.

The Queen nearly barked a laugh in response, catching his underlying tone of dread, nevertheless she nodded her acquiescence, raising her hand to signal her guards to remain outside The Imp's chamber. She could almost hear them whimper, her Lord Father wouldn't appreciate any deficient details when his spies reported back to him. She wondered how her Lord Hand would punish them for failing to remain on her heels. Tyrion closed the eyelet, a dulled shuffling sound once again travelled through the thin chamber door, she could hear a heavy bolt being drawn back and then the entryway cracked open a few inches. She rolled her eyes, before she strode forward, stalking into Tyrion's new chambers with effortless grace and an aura of cool confidence. As The Imp hurriedly shut, and relocked, the door behind her, she noted a relatively small axe leaning against the stone wall beside the crumbling threshold. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts as she causally walked in a wide circle around the chamber, there were three free standing candelabra strategically placed around the room, unlit, the only source of light in the chamber leaked in through a high square window. The singular room hadn't been inhabited for a good number of years, the last dweller had been a no-mark squire of some lesser knight. Intricate webs spun by unseen spiders clung to the dank ceiling in each corner of the room and thick visible layers of dust coated the various and somewhat ergodic furniture. Her upper lip curled into a sneer of distaste as she leisurely stalked back toward The Imp. Tyrion lingered near the closed door, and the axe, as if to ensure the entryway didn't somehow 'mysteriously' become unlocked and his life placed in jeopardy.

"Rumour had it that your nose had been cut off, but its not as gruesome as all that..." Cersei commented nonchalantly, deliberately leaning downward, to place herself close to eye-level with The Dwarf.

A large scar marred most of Tyrion's face, running from The Imp's left temple to his right cheek. Something stirred within her while she trailed her jade coloured eyes over the deep red mark, as she straightened with a sardonic arch of her perfectly shaped eyebrow, it wasn't concern nor was it sympathy. It was anger. The Imp was a stain on the proud name of Lannister and many a time, like her Lord Father, she had considered removing the disgraced blemish from her noble House, but when all was said and done, he was a Lannister. Unlike the gossiping vultures in her court, she knew how The Imp had received the wound during the battle, just as she knew who had arranged for the attack. As a Lannister it was The Imp's right to obtain justice for the assault, and it was her duty as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and a high ranking member of their House to administer that justice. Still, she didn't care that The Imp had nearly been butchered by Ser Mandon Moore, she cared only that a lowly guard had lain hands on a Lannister. Even as she began to toy with her prey, Ser Mandon was leaving the Capital on her order, and somewhere along the King's Road she had ensured that he would be set upon by hired brigands and 'unfortunately' the disgraced guard would fall to the attack. The insult to her House was repaid.

"...How do you like your new chambers?. I, personally, thought them fitting, after all, it isn't as though you require much room, now is it?" She adopted an impartial expression as Tyrion brushed past her, scowling up at her as he stepped away from the locked door, and the axe left leaning against the stone wall. Her words had the desired effect, her insult was her way of further assuring The Imp that she had no intention of making an attempt on his miserable life. Tyrion thought the reason for her visit revolved around discourtesies. If only.

"Maester Pycelle made a similar comment. You must be so proud to possess the same sense of humour as a man whose balls brush his knees" Tyrion sneered at her, reaching for a bottle of wine resting atop a spindly circular table next to a lank equipage she assumed had been recently used as a bed.

"And you've always been so funny, but none of your little jokes will ever match the first one, will they?. You remember, back when you ripped my mother open on your way out of her, and she bled to death..." She growled, her eyes flashing with undying rage as her lithe muscles coiled tightly. The Imp flinched violently, as though she had slapped him like she longed to do so, but he only paused momentarily before he finished pouring rich Dornish wine into a basic wooden goblet.

"...You murdered my mother, and the best part of my Father along with her. Which is why I cannot comprehend why you are going to see him today" That was a lie. Her Lord Hand had already launched a discreet investigation into the matter of Tyrion's attack. Tywin Lannister would always protect the family and slaughter those who would harm them, even the lowest member of their House had the right to that protection from the Lord Paramount of the West, and her Father provided it only to uphold their name. The Imp would readily supply the details of his onset in the hopes he could repair the rift left in the wake of her mother's death, like a dog craving his Master's affection. That was the sole reason for her visit.

"How did you know that?" Tyrion guzzled the wine from his goblet and refilled it with unnerving speed. She laughed liltingly, tauntingly. She had eyes everywhere, if there was something worth knowing in Westeros, something advantageous to her, then she would obtain that knowledge by any means necessary. She stood by what she had hissed at Baelish many weeks ago, Power was Power, but knowledge was certainly an effective and excellent weapon in the Game of Thrones.

"Your friend, Varys, owes me a few favours..." She lied smoothly. She watched, bemused, as The Dwarf paled, likely fearing that she had sent the Master of Whisperers to him as a rather efficacious spy. She didn't feel any particular need to correct his false assumption, Varys would soon serve his purpose where she was concerned, The Eunuch simply wouldn't know it until she had consolidated her power. Tyrion hid behind his wine goblet in the darkened chamber as he tried to compose himself, again, draining the contents of his drinking glass.

"...So tell me, what fabrications do you intend to give my Father today?. More of that incestuous nonsense, I suppose?" She aimed a derisive smirk in his direction. He glared back at her darkly.

"Why would I lie to him?. When, in this instance, the truth is just so much more damaging" He arched a brow sarcastically. Cersei slowly began to circle the dank chamber again with predatory grace, never once releasing The Imp from her piercing gaze, her smirk became progressively more mocking.

"Ah yes, the truth can be just as vicious as a lie, and how often they both result in the very same thing...sheer carnage...The truth is like a double edged sword in that regard, is it not?.." She mused cryptically, savouring the fact she had the clear upper hand in their verbal sparring match and The Dwarf didn't even realise it, yet. Finally she ceased her pacing, with a regal stance, she stood opposite Tyrion with seven feet separating them. From the light filtering into the small chamber through a little window, she could just about see that he wore a befuddled frown.

"...Answer me this, what do you think Father would do, if he were to discover that you have fallen in love with yet another whore?. What was her name?. Shae, something or other?" She drawled slowly, her melodic voice dripping with deadly venom. Recognition washed over his newly scarred face like a tidal wave sweeping across the shore and carrying him out into sea to flounder uselessly in an ocean of uncertainty, disbelief and defeat. It was a gratifying sight, watching her prey drown in his own folly. Had he honestly thought he could keep his lover's existence a secret?. In the moments that followed she thought The Imp would deny his relationship with the handmaid, but it wouldn't matter if he did, all she would have to do was imply the notion to her Lord Father and he would see the girl suffered horribly before he had her killed, something The Dwarf would never risk. The tide was in her favour and at last The Half-man knew it.

"What do you want Cersei?" Tyrion whispered brokenly, like a subjugated lion baring his jugular in submission.

"You are going to forever forget that Joffrey ordered Ser Mandon to kill you, and I will see to it that Father does not discover the existence of that Lorathi girl" She commented coldly, unmoved by the frantic desperation shinning in his blue eyes, her hold over him was born of his own arrogance. Unlike her, he hadn't thought of any contingency plans to safeguard his lover, whereas she would bathe in the blood of thousands if she thought they were a threat to Sansa, regardless of who they were. Even now she worked to construct a political shield around her SheWolf.

"You disown the boy and yet you still protect him..." Tyrion barked a laugh. Joffrey no longer held the title of King, by her word he had no claim to his inheritance, as such, her eldest son was denied the safety of the family. He was not a Lannister, therefore he did not warrant any care from Tywin Lannister, nor was he a Baratheon. Until he married Margaery Tyrell, Joffrey was little more than a peasant in fine clothing. And as her first born had wronged so many people in such a short time, she would not be surprised if there were plots in place to assassinate him. Joffrey was no longer her concern, and yet, maternal instinct roared in her ears. By fixing his mistakes she contrived to remove the unseen threat to his life, her final good deed for him. And her last kindness would be repaid. She intended to name Ser Loras as a member of the Kingsguard, to replace Ser Mandon. While Tyrell women were openly schooled in the ways of politics, their misogynistic ancestors, a rife plague among the Kingdoms, dictated that Tyrell women couldn't inherit their family's lands, titles or wealth. Ensuring that her grandchildren would one day rule the Reach when they came of age, until that day, she intended to instate her uncle Kevan as Steward of Highgarden in Joffrey's stead, none would dare to question her decision, even her Lord Father would recognise her sound strategy. After all her uncle Kevan had always made his respect for her known, that was not to say she trusted him, that was a rarity bestowed upon very few, but her uncle Kevan would answer directly to her and take her orders without complaint or hesitation. The Queen had already sunk her claws into The Reach, and one day soon, she would forcibly drag her quarry into her Den, before moving onto the rest of the hypocritical herd.

"...Tell me big sister are you blind?. Can you not see that Joffrey is poison?" Tyrion scoffed to himself, glaring indignantly at her. She was almost amused, that it had taken her revealing her hold over The Imp to turn him into nothing more than a sulky child.

"The love I bear for my children is one of my few redeeming qualities" She stated icily. He muttered to himself further, incensed, after a moment of The Dwarf's incoherent babble ebbed away into an acute silence, he looked up into her steely gaze, frustration shone back at her, visible like the first glimpse of Summer after a long Winter and almost as gratifying. She barely resisted the urge to grin victoriously.

"So be it, I'll not say anything about the boy's attempt on my life to Father, so long as you keep your word, and see that Ser Mandon meets his end or else we will catch a glimpse of 'sheer carnage' together" Tyrion growled, even as his shoulders slumped. She nodded with a condescending smirk, completely undeterred by his threat, after all, she always had more than one route available to her, several tactics forever at the ready to utilise in the Game. Only one person could support Tyrion's claim that Joffrey had arranged the attack, and gold turned the tongues of many a dishonest hue, even that of Podrick Payne. Turning her back on The Imp, she stalked toward the chamber door, she reached out with an elegant hand, adorned with her signet ring, and dragged the heavy bolt back, but before she drew the door open, she glanced appraisingly over her slender shoulder for one last glance at her grievously wounded prey.

"Your little visit will be for nought, my Father will burn Casterly Rock to the ground before he names you Lord, and I would gladly help him. Accept it, and accept that neither he, nor I, will forgive you for killing _her_" She waited to see him, try and fail to, hide a wince before she flung open the door with a loud creaking sound from the protesting and thoroughly rusted hinges. She found Ser Meryn and Ser Boros trading heated, and yet rather pathetic barbs with The Imp's Sell-Sword, Bronn, all three men had a hand on their respective blades. In unison, they fell silent and as one they each took a step back from one another, making way for her as she indifferently stalked passed them with her signature unemotional mask firmly in place, much like everything else was being forced back into it's natural order.

The Seven Kingdoms may have been forged in Dragonsfire, but the future of Westeros would be sculpted by the claws of the Lannister Lioness, her legacy would eclipse that of the Targaryens and it would last for thousands of years.

**TBC. . .**

**AN: I'm sorry about the delay, I had a ridiculous amount of school stuff to get through before summer and it all got in the way of my writing. And I know I've only mentioned Cersei/Sansa in this chapter, but there is a reason for that which I'm not going to divulge and there will be plenty of them in the next chapter, which I hope to post within a couple of weeks. Don't hold me to that though, because we all know my updates are just a 'little' irregular ;D Thanks for reading, I'd appreciate any and all feedback. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Game Of Thrones or anything else associated with either the Books or the Show.

**Chapter Twelve.**

There was a moral lesson to be found between the plurality of jagged steel swords that forged the Iron Throne, the coiled metal, piercing edges and monstrous spikes had stolen blood from many of the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, had even claimed the life of Maegor the Cruel of House Targaryen, the back of the Throne was fanged which made leaning back impossible unless one was willing to sacrifice one's life-blood to the hulking Seat of Power. Aegon the Conqueror of House Targaryen had intentionally constructed the Iron Throne to be notoriously uncomfortable and unsafe for a specific reason, to deliver instruction unto his Heirs long after he was dead and his body cremated; a King should never sit easily or carelessly, just as he should not rule his people carelessly. A wise and noble lesson but ultimately one that had been ignored over the course of time by all the Kings that succeeded Aegon I to power. And the Lioness of House Lannister was nothing if not conscientious in her cunning manipulation of events and people to her advantage. Cersei understood Aegon's lesson, she daily adorned the eternal reminder of the Targaryen King's idealistic instruction at the heart of the Red Keep, but she refused to rule by that obsolete principle. Perhaps the Dragon had loomed over the Seven Kingdoms at such a great height that he had failed to see the true face of his people, but she did, and she saw the need for artful guile above blunt nobility when dealing with the deceitful snake-pit of Westeros.

"Here, before the old Gods and the New, I, Ser Loras Tyrell, perpetually dedicate my sword to Your Grace, Queen Cersei of House Lannister. From this moment forth, I vow to protect Your Grace from harm or threat even if it should result in my death, to shelter your secrets should I be entrusted with them, to offer counsel to the very best of my capabilities if it is ever requested of me and to remain silent when it is not, and I promise to defend your name and honour with everything I am until the moment of my death" Ser Loras dutifully remained kneeling before the upraised marble dais that supported the imposing Iron Throne, his eyes stayed respectfully lowered and firmly rooted on the rich majestic red carpeting running from the wall behind the highly distinguished Seat of Power to the large arched entryway at the far end of the Great Hall as he diligently waited for her to grant him permission to stand and be acknowledged by his new brothers-in-arms as well as the primly attired Lords and Ladies all assembled to witness the promotion of the young knight to one of the Kingsguard.

"I accept your vow Ser Loras, know that you will be held to it and punished severely if ever you should break it. Now rise and be recognised as nothing more than another Kingsguard" Cersei drawled coldly from atop the white marble platform, elegantly seated on the Iron Throne, like a lazy lioness admiring her freshest kill sprawled out lifelessly before her with it's throat viciously torn out.

She effortlessly concealed her satisfied smirk behind her signature mask of cold, unreadable indifference as Ser Loras, clad for the first time in the emblematic gold-plated armour of the elite royal guard, rose up off his knees, pausing gauchely for a long moment before clasping his gloved hands together in front of himself, clearly at a loss as to how he should conduct himself while Ser Arys Oakheart approached him with a flowing, folded white cloak clutched in his gloved hands. Ser Loras' head remained reverently inclined toward her, an unsurprising gesture being as she could count on one hand the people possessing the courage required to meet her steely gaze. The Vultures assembled in the colossal Throne Room murmured quietly amongst themselves, likely pondering over her wording, after all, Ser Loras had just been publicly inducted into one of the oldest and proudest orders in the History of the Seven Kingdoms, and yet she, comfortably adorning the Iron Throne unhindered by it's pointed erose edges on account of her flawless bearing and regal grace, unmatched by any of her Predecessors, openly demeaned the significance of the ceremony she presided over. Her Father silently conveyed his own dark contempt for the drab affair, and his acute apprehension of her motives, by his absence from her side where the Hand of the Queen should sit during such events as this. But she wasn't exactly startled or fazed by Tywin Lannister's non-attendance, had Robert still ruled she would have failed to attend also, she held nothing but vehement disdain for pomp and ceremony simply because she found watching the nobles strut around before her like preening peacocks to be extremely tedious. She almost envied her Father his absence, her Lord Hand was currently secluded in his chambers preparing the documentation that officially invested Ser Loras into the Kingsguard, however she would have the pleasure of studying the future of House Tyrell as it crumbled like a rotting wooden-beam no longer able to support itself.

She cast a menacingly incisive eye over the crowd as Ser Arys awkwardly attached the long milk-white cloak to the golden pauldrons of Ser Loras' armour, it was a purely symbolic action, supposedly invoking the bonds of sworn brotherhood. Her jade coloured eyes soon located the lined face of Lady Olenna Tyrell standing among a select group of high-born Ladies, including Margaery Tyrell, toward the front of the Throne room, it appeared to her as though both Tyrell women had just consumed something entirely distasteful and sour as they watched Ser Loras cast aside his familial ties in favour of direct servitude to the Crown, to her. The Queen's sensuously sculpted mouth finally curled into a predatory smirk, a knowing, measured tilt of her full red lips that sent waves of further confusion into the feeble minds of the detested Vultures all staring up at the Royal Lioness with beady eyes, ravenous for her to provide them with every ounce of sustenance they could manage to sink their hooked talons into, and she soon would cater to their desperate hunger for causerie and rumours, regardless of if there was any truth to them, but not yet. The gossipmongering horde she was surrounded by on all sides would have a part to play in her plan that would consolidate her power and authority. Just as Ser Loras' promotion was simply another strategic move in the Game of Thrones to her, rather than her seizing upon his admittedly quite notable skills with a blade. With the Tyrell Heir to Highgarden incapable of claiming his inheritance, the consequence of his oath to her, her first-born grandchild from the forthcoming union of Joffrey and Margaery would become Lord Paramount of The Reach upon a day, heedless of gender by her proclamation, the child would be a Lannister cub she intended to have raised within the Red Keep with her love and under her guidance. She would not allow Joffrey's sadistic and Margeary's sycophantic influences to infect and corrupt that unborn child, such a thing was inconceivable to her.

The Reach had just been captured and was now held between her golden paws alongside The Imp, like two little mice cowering before her bloodied claws, with no possible escape. Lady Olenna remained glaring at Ser Loras as he took his place among his sworn brothers standing tall at the base of her infamous Throne, the elderly woman's thin dry lips were pursed with deep displeasure. Lady Tyrell clearly sensed the end of her House was nigh, how lovely. The Queen could have laughed, she did so enjoy watching her schemes come ever closer to fruition.

* * *

><p>It was to the lulling music of ocean waves rolling together in tandem flowing into her rooms through an open window, that Cersei gently tucked a wayward strand of golden blonde hair behind the shell of Myrcella's ear, a tender smile lit up the Queen's agelessly beautiful face as her slumbering cub murmured in her untroubled sleep while she softly stroked her Heir's forehead with the back of her slender knuckles, carefully, to avoid the possibility of disturbing her daughter. Her young children had fallen prey to sleep curled together, just as lion cubs were wont-to-do, with their small hands laced together lightly and contented smiles playing at the corners of their mouths, atop the Lannister red bedsheets in her large four-poster bed adorned with a heavy crimson canopy displaying the Sigil of her proud House. Numerous free-standing candelabras set in strategic places throughout her chambers forced an army of shadows into the far corners of her rooms. She shifted slightly on the edge of her bed, leaning downward to press a feather-light kiss to Myrcella's cheek.<p>

After dinner, served just after sunset consisting of a wide range of expensive cuisine both native to Westeros and several, far more costly, dishes which originated from foreign lands, she had personally seen to it that her precious cubs were separately bathed and prepared for bed. Myrcella, ever the more daring of her children, had demanded that Sansa tell them a tale from the North before they would peacefully retire for the night, of course her treasured daughter hadn't been contented with just one story to placate her desire for adventure and one tale had multiplied into several lengthy narrations, each with their own hidden meaning though she highly suspected Tommen hadn't quite grasped the implications presented to him by her SheWolf, but he was very young and Northern tales tended to be more cautionary than entertaining. The Queen had been entirely self-complacent listening to Sansa's melodic tone of voice as the redhead spoke quietly with her children, soothing them to sleep before she had even worked her way through half the missives and reports piled heavily on her ornately carved oak desk. Her cherished lover's strong maternal instinct and attentive skill with her treasured cubs warmed her heart, as always, promptly thawing the thick layers black ice she had gathered about the jaded organ when dealing coldly with Tyrion and House Tyrell, for the first time that day she felt like the sun was shinning down on her.

She whispered comforting little nothings into the Princess's ear when there was a subdued knock on the thick oak door to her chambers which was bolted shut, she knew from the softly distinct rhythm that it was Sandor requesting entrance and her cub began stir, in response to the quiet thump of The Hound's knock, nuzzling further into her lavish maroon pillow. Out the corner of her jade coloured eye, she caught sight of Sansa, clothed in a white gossamer thin cotton nightgown with a richly designed crimson overcoating complemented with gold trim, silently glide toward the tall arched entryway to unlock and draw open the door. Cersei felt the urge to grin when her SheWolf warmly greeted The Hound as he slipped back into her plush chambers, Sandor had already carried Tommen's sleeping form back to the Prince's own lodgings and now he was to do the same for Myrcella. The Hound still appeared a little uncomfortable with Sansa's cordiality, having become so accustomed to being looked down upon by the high-born Vultures for such a prolonged time that any kind word made him feel discomfited, the hulking man merely inclined his scarred head in response to the elder Stark girl's welcome before he glanced at her for direction. Cersei lifted her elegant hand and gestured Sandor closer with a languid flick of her long slender fingers, The Hound hastily stalked toward her with his brown eyes lowered to the marble floor, covered in thick majestic furs of various beasts most of them were gifts from Robert after his frequent hunting escapades in the King's Wood. She reluctantly rose up off the edge of her four-poster bed allowing her most loyal liege-subject access to her daughter, subconsciously smoothing down the silken folds of her Lannister red nightdress with her left hand while The Hound cautiously scooped Myrcella's lax body into his bulging arms, protectively cradling the sleeping Princess against his broad chest with one arm tucked under her cub's knees and the other supporting Myrcella's compact shoulders. She gracefully prowled along beside Sandor's towering form as he strode purposefully across the massive expanse of her rooms toward the lucubrate arched entrance to her exuberantly furnished chambers.

When Sansa drifted toward them at the door to bid The Hound goodnight, Cersei possessively slipped her lithe arm around the younger woman's slim waist, pulling her beautifully slender redhead tightly into her side, she took a long moment to savour how perfectly her lover's warm body fit against hers. It was almost like the Gods had sculpted her SheWolf just for her, and as much as her life's experience demanded that she brand the thought as folly, she had no interest in doing so. She very nearly purred in the back of her throat when she felt Sansa's arm snake around her own lean waist, an intimate touch without any hesitation on the younger woman's part, the quiet confidence her lover displayed had her smiling to herself in a heartbeat.

"Goodnight Sandor" Sansa smiled amiably up at The Hound, as he taciturnly slipped back out into the wide corridor in the Red Keep, his movements smooth and silent despite his muscular frame. Cersei stroked the slight curve of her lover's hip when Sansa rested her head on her scanty covered shoulder.

She inclined her own head, though the action was barely noticeable, at Sandor when he silently turned back to face her, the solemn gleam in his brown eyes promised her that her daughter was in safe hands and the Princess would not be disturbed. There was only one man in all the Kingdoms she trusted more than Sandor to provide the best care and protection for her cubs, and that was Jaime. A pained wince flashed across her face before she could quite catch it, fortunately Sandor had already swept down the hall with Myrcella in his arms. The swiftness of The Hound's stealthy movements agitated the crimson tapestries displaying the Lannister Sigil that were mounted on the marble walls, and caused the orange light falling off from the aflame torches, affixed to the walls in solid iron brackets, to waver and send demonic shadows dancing through the long corridor. With Sansa's head resting on her shoulder there was no one to see the pining glint in the Queen's jade coloured eyes, pining for her absentee twin, before she promptly caged it behind her stoic mask. Jaime would return to King's Landing under his own power, and soon, he was far to stubborn to allow an inconsequential thing like the Northern army to keep him from his family, especially now that moderate units of Robb Stark's army continued to break off from the main force stationed at Riverrun, returning home so that they might tend their harvests before Winter descended on them all. The end of this war was so close she could taste it on the tip of her tongue, the Northern army was like a fatally wounded deer retreating through the King's Wood and only just managing to evade the snapping jaws of the healthy lion dangerously close on it's heels. A heavy sigh racked Cersei's mesmeric body as she affectionately brushed her full soft lips against her SheWolf's magnolia pale forehead as she reached out with her elegant left hand to push the six foot door closed, twisting the key in the gold lock to engage the mechanism. Even when the fighting was done the tremendous loss of life would leave behind a heinous scar on the Realm, it was such a mournful waste, thousands lay dead in the dust all because of one single inconceivable lie, but when the North had bent the knee to her, civil war would never again be a possibility. She would make damned certain of that.

"Come..." She tightened her arm around the tiny expanse of her lover's delicate waist, gently urging the younger woman to turn with her, she guided Sansa toward the wide, elegantly carved, mahogany chaise padded with the finest cotton and covered with a wealth of dark red satin placed a safe distance from the vast but unlit hearth. Cersei pursed her lips amusedly when her eyes landed on Duchess, the pristine white and grey Dire-wolf lay on her stomach in front of the fireplace, her wedge shaped head resting on her paws, audibly panting with her red tongue hanging out of her mouth. The young wolf had ambled into her chambers, accompanying the rest of her family earlier in the evening, and promptly crashed to the stone floor in an exhausted mass of thick pale fur and heavy breathing. Oddly enough she could have swore she had caught a glimpse of something hanging from the wolf's jaws as the, rapidly growing, pup had trotted past her, but now she couldn't see anything laying on the marble floor around Sansa's loyal companion to confirm her suspicion.

"...Tell me Sansa, has your pup finally caught that pesky squirrel out in the gardens?..." Cersei murmured thoughtfully as she settled her lover on the chaise before meandering toward her oak desk, the large table dominated a good portion of her chamber in front of the open window that allowed the cool night air entrance into her rooms. Behind her desk, tucked in one of the corners of her chambers, was a relatively ample wooden cabinet with aureate markings finely etched into the sides.

If Duchess had managed to catch that squirrel, it would explain why she couldn't seem to locate any evidence and why the young wolf was so tired, her children hadn't been able to tire-out the spirited pup even when Duchess was small, and now that the pup was beginning to grow, it was hardly likely that her cubs had reduced the Dire-wolf to such a state. Cersei glanced over her slender shoulder as she crouched gracefully, opening the cabinet to reveal several crystal bottles of both red and white wine, and other far more potent beverages, she frowned when she saw the redhead gnawing on her plump pink lower lip, something she knew her lover only ever did when the younger woman was mentally preparing herself to do or say something she felt slightly nervous about. The Queen turned her attention back to the expensive contents of the cabinet she was crouched before, she smirked to herself and picked out a twenty year old bottle of red, brewed with the only the finest Lannister grapes, the very same rich-tasting liquid she had given Sansa the first night they'd made love. She closed the cabinet with a soft click and straightened easily. There were two hefty ruby encrusted goblets placed upside down on a silver tray atop the cabinet to prevent dust gathering inside the cup, she set the wine bottle beside the tray before she went about overturning the goblets and working the stopper free from the bottle's thin neck with practised ease.

"...Darling?..." Cersei prompted again, softly, she fleetingly returned her jade coloured eyes to her cherished SheWolf, she cocked her head curiously when she took note of the light blush colouring her Sansa's high cheekbones as the younger woman continued to nibble on her delectable lower lip. The Queen's frown deepened while she filled the two goblets until they were half filled with wine and replaced the stopper in the wine bottle, cradling the cusp of each goblet in the palm of either hand she lazily strolled back toward her seated lover. She regally settled on the chaise beside Sansa and extended one wine goblet toward her anxious SheWolf, when the redhead had relieved her of the weighted goblet, she leaned back against the arm of the chaise and gazed back at the beautiful woman next her, jade eyes soft with deep affection.

"...Would this happen to have something to do with Lord Baelish coming to see you today?" Cersei murmured, concerned, taking a single sip of her red wine, she barely even noted the rich, smooth liquid as it flowed down into her gullet leaving behind a tenuous burn. She knew all about Baelish's 'offer' to reunite Sansa with her family and she did not like the Master of Coin's attention clinging to her treasured lover like a parasite feasting on a majestic wolf. Unfortunately for him, she knew precisely how she was going to clamp her jaws around that loathsome Mockingbird.

"How did you-" Sansa's perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed with confusion, unable to comprehend how the Queen could know such a thing when they hadn't a chance to discuss their day. She lowered her wine glass onto the marble floor beside the curved leg of the ornate chaise, Duchess didn't even spare her a look as the wolf panted heavily, tiredly. She leaned back against the chaise's arm again, a picture of languid grace and seductive confidence sheathed in crimson silk. The corner of her mouth curled into a half-smile.

"I've made a point of knowing where you are at every moment of every day since I first laid eyes on you, and I also know who you come into contact with. I apologise if you feel uncomfortable with this practise of mine, but it won't be ceasing, especially when the Realm knows that you are, in fact, my paramour" Cersei murmured, suddenly apprehensive about her lover's reaction to this news. She had to know where Sansa was in the poisonous snake-pit she ruled over, it was crucial to her lover's safety and the stability of her mindset, she only felt relaxed enough to made sound judgements on the future of her Kingdoms when she knew where the pieces of her heart were in the Red Keep. Sansa, Myrcella, Tommen, this practise was for their protection from the Vultures and nothing else, she didn't seek to control them, quite the opposite, she only desired to guard them from the harshness they were almost oblivious to, like they with their warm innocence prevented her from becoming the cold-hearted bitch everyone else believed her to be.

"But it doesn't make me feel uneasy..." Sansa admitted in a whisper with a small smile, her SheWolf lowered her head as the blush staining her cheeks darkened further. Cersei breathed a sigh of relief, she'd never willing upset her cherished lover, but if the day ever arrived when she needed to choose between Sansa's happiness and security, the latter would instantaneously take precedence. She shifted on the softly padded chaise, moving closer to the other woman, she rested one elegant hand high on Sansa's warm supple thigh, over the thin white cotton of the younger woman's nightgown.

"...Its comforting, actually. The nobles, the way they have begun to look at me as of late, is unsettling, even more so than usual because I don't know why they have begun to stare at me like that"

"The nobles are like fish out of water when they have nothing to gossip about. With the war coming to an end, they are about to be plunged back into the sea. They watch you because they think I will execute your brothers and your mother, and then marry you off to a cousin of mine or some other unintelligent twit fortunate enough to share my name so that I can control the North..." Cersei explained with a scoff and roll of her eyes. The fools, she had other means to control the rebellious wolves, and it was slowly materialising like a ship emerging out a wall of solid mist. Sansa gnawed on her full lower lip again, though there was no amount of malaise in her lover's blue-grey eyes, the younger woman trusted her to deal fairly with her family even after her failure to prevent Eddard's execution, that knowledge nearly made her head swim with sublime gratification. She slowly began to draw small circles on the inside of the redhead's inner thigh, smirking playfully when her SheWolf's breath quickened with excitement.

"...But as I have promised, your brother and mother will admit defeat and swear fealty to me, Robb can certainly keep his head and maybe his lands depending on his choice of manners. But I keep you. Now tell me my dear, what has you behaving so nervously with me?" She purred cajolingly into Sansa's ear, quietly and temptingly, she couldn't resist the urge to nibble on the younger woman's lobe as she waited for her answer, causing her SheWolf to tremble against her and to moan breathlessly. She growled low in her throat when Sansa pulled away from her slightly, the younger woman smiled nervously before she leaned forward and placed the goblet in her hand on the floor, she kept her hand firmly on Sansa's upper thigh.

"Duchess..." Sansa commanded softly. Cersei frowned to herself, but she patiently leaned back against the chaise while the pristine white and grey dire-wolf rose onto her paws and cautiously moved off to the side near the open hearth where she soon settled again, it was almost like the wolf was trying to hide something she'd formerly been laying on. The Queen tilted her head when Sansa leaned further forward on the padded chaise next to her, though she couldn't help but become distracted by the perfect arch of her lover's back on display for her, the curve of the redhead's neck and the fall of her SheWolf's long silken red hair falling over Sansa's shoulders. She moved her hand from the redhead's thigh to comfortingly cupped the nape of Sansa's warm neck when she noticed the redhead's breathing quicken with anxiety, slowly she kneaded the younger woman's muscles, skilfully working the tight knots of tension she could feel gathered beneath her nimble fingers until her SheWolf was quietly humming with pleasure beside her. She didn't relinquish her tender hold when the younger woman finally straightened and shifted on the crimson chaise to face her.

"...H-here" Sansa's magnolia pale hands were shaking as the redhead extended a small square bundle of white cloth toward her, she started massaging her lover's neck again with her elegant right hand as she carefully accepted the soft fabric in her left. Surprised curiosity settled onto her shoulders like a much-needed winter cloak as she rested the suspiciously light bundle of cloth on her slender knee, balancing Sansa's _gift _while she single-handedly unwrapped the loosely assembled parcel. Pealing back the folds of thick white cloth she was pleasantly shocked to find a crenation seashell nestled in among it's bed of snow-white fabric, the shell was a few sizes too big to nestle in palm of her hand and it's outside curve was covered by a mixture of red and orange blending in together, while the inside of the seashell was dotted with dashes of striking white and purple to create a truly beautiful illustration of Southern beaches. The Queen was dazed, struck silent by the sudden lump of emotion wedging inside firmly in her throat and warm tightness in her chest, she tried to clear her throat and yet she was highly aware of the small strangled sound that announced her failing. She swallowed and cleared her throat again, more determinedly.

"The Lion's Paw..." She announced on a husky whisper, lightly grazing the tip of her forefinger over the shell's curved face and notched end, as expected the shell was cool to the touch, the red and orange hues integrated together to create an almost golden colour, hence the name.

"...It originates in the Westerlands, I haven't see one since I left Casterly Rock" She cocked her head, her long thick braid of silky blonde hair fell over her shoulder as she felt a warm weight form in her chest.

Aside from the little things her precious cubs frequently gave her, she couldn't remember the last time she had received a gift for purely sentimental reasons. Jaime had given her a six-inch dagger, the very same blade she had intended to kill Tyrion with all those weeks ago that now rested soundly beneath the false-bottom in the top drawer in her ornate desk, on her wedding night, whispering to her that if Robert were to hurt her in any way that she should use it 'effectively', below the waist. In that sense the dagger was practical with great sentimental value. She smiled warmly, recalling her twin's outrage on her behalf when her father had deigned to tell her of her pending wedding to her late husband. Whereas she had merely nodded her head to her Lord Father's blunt announcement sensing the advancement involved for their House and their legacy if she were to become Queen, even if she did find the thought of laying with a man as profoundly repulsive as being forced to swallow cold vomit, Jaime's fiery rage, resulting from his knowledge of her preferences, had never quite died out over the course of her long and eventually affable marriage. Jaime had always wanted her to seek out the ageless love a Lannister could find only once in a lifetime and in return she had always laughed, sceptically deeming his hope for her an 'absurd idea'. Her sensuous mouth twisted into a mocking smirk, aimed at herself, the smug sap she called her twin brother would be getting the last laugh when he came home to her and found she had taken a SheWolf for her one true mate.

"I found it washed up in a rock pool when I was watching the ships go out today. The gold colour made me think of you" Sansa's pale wolf eyes twinkled in the dim candle light, as though her lover could feel her surge of positive yet foreign emotion but still worried about her reaction to the seashell.

She smiled appreciatively at her lover, before her smile adopted a self-mocking edge, she was surrounded by the finest luxuries Lannister gold could provide in all the world, the likes of which the general populace couldn't even dream of, and yet the fact her SheWolf had given her this shell, a common enough shell in the Westerlands, made it more valuable to her than all the extravagance she had been bathed in since birth and all the lavish gifts rained down on her thereafter. But she hadn't a single notion where she should place such a token of affection in her chambers, she nearly laughed at herself, she could make swift decisions about the future of all the Seven Kingdoms without blinking an eye but she could think of where to place Sansa's gift in her chambers. Perhaps it was a good thing Jaime had not yet returned to the Capital, he'd never let her hear the end of this.

For a moment, her graceful hand drifted away from the shell balanced on her knee and soon her fingertips found the face of her Mother's pendant that always adorned the column of her neck, she had never once removed it from the instant her Father had gruffly secured it around her throat, without a word, after her mother had been cruelly taken away from them. The gold necklace, depicting a lioness, always there, always present with her where she could feel it, it was only appropriate that the Lion's Paw seashell was kept in a place where she would always be aware of it. She leaned toward Sansa and pressed gentle loving kiss to the delicately soft and gloriously pale expanse of her lover's cheek before she rose up onto her bare feet, cradling the shell in both her elegant palms like she was holding a fragile dove, Duchess glanced up at her curiously as she stepped around the pristine white and grey wolf toward the tall mantelpiece, she lifted her hands and reverently rested the crenation shaped shell at the far left corner of the stone mantle, at an angle she could easily see it from her four-poster bed and her desk, where she spent the majority of her time.

She nodded to herself, satisfied, she glanced downward when she heard a rumbling bark resound loudly, she found Duchess staring up at her from where the wolf up lay curled up on the floor at her feet, the dire wolf's tail happily swished back and forth across the marble, clearly Sansa's loyal companion approved of where she'd placed the shell. She pursed her full red lips at the young wolf, before she gently petted the pup's wedge shaped head fondly, she glared darkly when she was forced to nimbly avoid the equally affectionate lick Duchess attempted to bestow on her. Sansa's amused lilting giggle guided her back toward the crimson chaise, she sat down close to her lover, their thighs brushed together as she settled on the delightfully soft cushioning, she sighed quietly as the warmth of Sansa's beautiful body melded in with her own. She lifted her hand and carefully cupped her lover's delicate cheek in her hand, she was humbled by the trusting ease with which Sansa leaned into her touch, her SheWolf was still blushing as she coaxed the younger woman's gaze to stay locked with her own; pale wolf irises locked with gleaming cat's eyes.

She brushed the pad of her thumb over Sansa's cheekbone, her heart began to beat faster in her chest, the pounding tempo echoed loudly in her ears as she stared back at her lover in the dim candlelight, she caressed the younger woman's finely sculpted features with her jade coloured eyes, drinking in the sight of her SheWolf like a woman dying of thirst in the Red Waste across the Narrow Sea on Essos. She ran the backs of her dainty knuckles over Sansa's cheek, marvelling at the softness of her lover's warm pale skin as she gently trailed her fingertips down the redhead's slender jaw, the pleasantly formed column of her neck. She felt Sansa shivering profusely as she slipped her graceful hand around to once more cup the nape of her SheWolf's neck in one hand, entwining the long slender fingers of her other hand together tightly with Sansa's own as she wrapped the thick silken fall of her lover's hair around her right palm. She knew nothing of time or even the chaise beneath her as she used her hold to pull Sansa's head back slightly, baring the younger woman's throat to her hunger eyes, she knew only the arousal pooling low in her stomach and the warmth thrumming in her chest. Her lover gasped hotly when she carefully nibbled on her exposed jugular with her perfect white teeth, Sansa's chest heaved heavily with the redhead's quickened breathing as she kissed the flawless skin beneath her lips, earning herself a loud moan from the redhead when she swirled her talented tongue over her SheWolf's throat. Sansa began to stroke her back, the sensitised magnolia pale skin bared by the red silken straps criss-crossing over her lithe back down to her delicate waist, she shivered and nearly growled as she tightened her hand in her lover's long hair, Sansa's short sharp nails lightly raked across her back as she kissed and nipped a path up the smooth line of her SheWolf's throat to firmly capture the other woman's full pink lips with her own. She kept her hand buried in Sansa's hair as she easily, and perhaps instinctively, seized control of the kiss.

She did her best to maintain the gentle dance of their lips, savouring the sweet feel of Sansa's mouth beneath hers as a bolt of burning desire flowed through her like a smoothly streaming tidal wave, though she could feel her desire clawing at the underside of her skin demanding that she be rough, that she leave marks adorning her lover's flesh for all to see on the morrow. It was an incredible effort to refrain with her lust rising fast and furiously. Before her eyes drifted helplessly closed she saw the redhead's blue-grey eyes fluttered shut as the younger woman moaned passionately into their kiss, without breaking their kiss she shifted closer to her lover on the chaise so that she would have more leverage. She withdrew her hand from Sansa's hair to cup the back of her SheWolf's head as she slid her tongue over the younger woman's deliciously plump lower lip, heatedly, possessively. With her other hand she allowed her fingers to graze along Sansa's forearm, she smiled when she felt goose-flesh break out all over the redhead's lithe arms, her SheWolf was such a responsive lover, so very vocal about her pleasures. She expertly plunged her tongue into the hot cavern of Sansa's mouth, the Queen groaned at the sudden tightening of her breasts when her SheWolf's exquisite taste swept over her as she slid her tongue along her lover's own tongue, before she retreated and seized Sansa's lips in a series of long kisses, deep and elemental like wildfire blazing out of control so rapidly the flames could not be contained. She growled and nibbled on her Paramour's passion swollen lips when she felt the younger woman's nails desperately dig into her bare back, begging wordlessly for a deepened kiss that she has all too happy to grant, she thrust her tongue back into the other woman's mouth, both of them moaning breathlessly as their tongues swirled together hotly. Cersei slid her fingers further along the redhead's arm while her lover clung to her needfully, over Sansa's slim shoulder and down her chest until she was cupping the lusciously full mound of her SheWolf's breast in the palm of her hand. She eagerly swallowed Sansa's resulting wail of pleasure in the same instant she began kneading the soft weight, protected only by a thing layer of cotton, in her hand, the hard point of her lover's nipple pierced the material of the younger woman's nightdress. Still in possession of Sansa's mouth, her tongue stroking, claiming her SheWolf, she effortlessly began to pluck at the silken ties holding the bodice of the redhead's nightgown together and preventing her from seeing all of the younger woman's beauty. She was forced to tear her mouth away from Sansa's with the greatest reluctance, both of them panting, flushed and longing to return to their embrace when a loud bark resounded from nearby, she glared with enough icy force to cut through stone at Duchess when the pup had the nerve to look back at her innocently with soulful eyes. Though her irritation with the wolf was short-lived, disappearing entirely when Sansa began bathing her jawline in short hot kisses conveying just how desperately the younger woman hungered for her, a mutual desire.

"Go to my bed. Now..." Cersei rasped lustfully to her Paramour, nearly growling low in her throat when Sansa rose up from the chaise onto unsteady legs and stumbled toward the large four-poster awaiting them. She stood up, ready to join her lover, to indulge in the warm welcoming wetness between Sansa's thighs, but not before she gave the whelp cowering on the floor before the hearth one last warning glance.

"...Should you ever feel the need to interrupt us again mutt, I will personally skin you alive and turn you into a cloak" She hissed venomously down at the white and grey dire-wolf, but she was only half-serious in the threat she issued to Sansa's loyal companion. Duchess tilted her wedge-shaped head, her strangely intelligent blue eyes flashing as she pitifully whined apologetically up at the Queen.

* * *

><p>"Sandor, do you recall the sacking of King's Landing during Robert's Rebellion?" Cersei murmured to The Hound early the next morning after breakfast had been served, it was a redundant question, the acts committed during the rather quick siege conducted by her Father was remembered by all but she felt the need to cautiously ease into the conversation she intended to have with her SheWolf, sat next to her at a table.<p>

The Queen was regally perched atop a high backed chair at a circular oak table in the gardens, enjoying the last rays of summer before they vanished. Sandor stood vigil behind her and to the right, if she tilted her head a little she could see him with his large paws clasped together in front of him as he watched for the slightest threat to her or her family. Myrcella and Tommen were running around the gardens, giggling as they weaved in and around tall trees and vibrant rose beds while Duchess playfully stalked after her cubs.

"It was a massacre Your Grace" The Hound grumbled bluntly, likely avoiding the brutal details or Sansa's sake as the redhead listened on silently, she couldn't afford such a luxury not if she was to make the younger woman truly understand her underhanded plans to ensure her SheWolf's safety when the truth was revealed.

"That it was..." She agreed with an inward grimace and heavy sigh. "...I found the slaying of Elia Martell particularly disturbing. But I cannot quite remember if Ser Gregor made her watch him killing both her children before he raped and killed her also, or if he made the young children watch him rape and kill their mother before he butchered them" She mentally cursed herself when she saw Sansa flinch and pale at the horrific event she relayed, keeping all emotion out of her voice, but she reasoned with herself that it was necessary, she had to make Sansa see the dangers of belonging to her as Elia Martell belonged to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. But unlike The Last Dragon she actually cared for her Paramour and she wouldn't leave Sansa open to any perils.

"I know not Your Grace" Sandor murmured solemnly.

"Such a terrible way to die, whichever horror occurred first. But then she became a target when Rhaegar married her, the honourable fool didn't really take Mistresses or become infatuated with anyone until Lyanna Stark, if he had, then perhaps Elia's death would've been more merciful..." She continued dispassionately. After a moment she risked a look at her lover, feeling a blade of sheer agony pierce her heart when she saw Sansa's horrified eyes brimming with tears though the younger woman still seemed oblivious to what she was suggesting, she reached over and carefully gathered her lover's left hand in hers, instantly the redhead was clinging to her, squeezing her palm desperately.

"...A Queen, or a King, always has enemies. Always. You cannot rule without earning the hatred of some and those who are closest to you suffer because of it. When the Realm knows of _this_..." She lifted Sansa's hand in hers and placed their entwined palms on the table's surface for all to see if they cared to look, she tenderly stroked her thumb over the redhead's pulse-point.

"...There will potentially be danger to you, therefore I must take certain precautions in the months to come. The nobles will be lead to believe that I have multiple, if not dozens of other, concubines to deter attention away from you. But I give my word that I will not touch another woman, ever, it will merely be a ruse, another move in the Game"

"I understand" Sansa whispered, squeezing her hand and smiling so brightly, though tears lingered in her pale eyes, she knew her SheWolf truly did understand and trust her plan. Though her present scheme maybe excessive considering she was currently working the means to subtly sink her claws into each of the Kingdoms at such an angle they would be crippled unless she allowed them to move, but The Imp had been so arrogant that he had failed to forge contingency plans to protect his whore and she had taken advantage of that weakness herself, she would not risk the same happening to her Paramour. She would prowl every possible route leading to the pieces of her heart and protect them.

"Understand that I am yours, and you are mine" She purred, for the first time she let her eyes stray to the side of her lover's pale neck, with Sansa's hair pinned up off her shoulders with diamond pins, she could easily see the purplish love-bite she'd left behind high on the younger woman's neck an inch or two beneath the redhead's ear. She smiled smugly to herself, this was the first time she'd allowed herself the pleasure of leaving a mark behind that could be plainly seen, she hadn't been able to resist any longer, her smile turned to a roguish smirk as she leaned toward her lover, she could hear the younger woman's breathing quicken and the sound of her cubs laughing as Duchess chased them around the gardens, she brushed her lips over the love-bite she'd inflicted the night before in a prolonged feathery kiss that had Sansa sighing delightedly and tilting her head to grant her greater access.

When she heard an extensive collection of heavy footfalls approaching them from a wide hallway leading out to the gardens behind her, her first instinct was to pull away before the newcomers managed to ascertain that she was kissing her 'captive's' slender neck, the long fall of her silky blond mane would conceal the action from a distance. But as the footsteps grew louder, she smiled and nuzzled her lover's warm flesh possessively. She was, after all, a cunning opportunist.

"Cersei..." Sansa whispered uncertainly. She shushed her lover by lightly sinking her perfect white teeth into the love-bite she was nuzzling, the loud gasp that was ripped from the redhead's plump lips was only made louder by the sudden absence of heavy footsteps. The newcomers, and the spies among them, would easily be able to deduce what she was doing to her SheWolf, and so the raging storm of gossip and rumours would begin, sweeping through the Red Keep, then the Capital, followed with the Crownlands, by tomorrow evening word will have undoubtedly reached the ears of Robb Stark, which would send the enraged Whelp into the treacherous arms of Walder Frey as he searched for allies. Cersei lifted her head, and turned her attention to the entrants wearing her signature mask of cold indifference and smirk, a smirk that only grew wider when she caught sight of her Uncle, Ser Kevan, flanked by twelve Lannister soldiers and other attendants, her uncle stared at her, mouth agape with shock and wide eyes, red and leaden from crying. She was disquieted to find the elder Lannister's cheeks stained with tears, more still seeped from the corners of his eyes, his jaw clenched as he tried to stifle a mournful moan.

"Either cease your blubbering and tell me why you're troubling me or leave Ser Kevan, I have pressing matters to attend in my bedchambers" Cersei snapped before she shot her blushing SheWolf a pointed predatory smirk, with a connotation attached that Sansa would grasp from their time spent together.

The Lannister soldiers accompanying her Uncle were only loyal to her Lord Hand and they would not speak of their discovery to anyone save Tywin Lannister for fear of his reaction should they breath a word of it to anyone else, but the majority of the attendants with her Father's younger brother were spies for several of the nobles throughout the Keep, she even spotted one of Varys' little birds among them. The smirk she wore for Sansa held no emotion save lecherous purpose, and this was intentional on her part, she would make the Vultures think that she was merely bedding Sansa to taunt Robb Stark while he was still alive and to control the North if and when the Whelp was dead, they weren't to know that she intended to show him mercy after she'd forcibly bent his will to hers. It was another layer of protection for her lover, when the Vultures thought the redhead was inconsequential to her then chances were good they would leave Sansa alone and such a development wouldn't take long, they all thought her incapable of love or true affection as it was, especially when the rumours of her other 'lovers' began to circulate. She was skilfully creating doubt in every corner, and it was to her advantage and her SheWolf's benefit. Ser Kevan swallowed tightly as more tears wended their way down his aged face, he stared at her for a long moment before he turned his attention to her side, to Sansa. She knew the man was in shock from the distant quality in his voice when he finally spoke.

"Forgive my intrusion Your Grace but I have just received word that my young sons Martyn and Willem, your cousins, have been murdered by the Northerners" Ser Kevan wailed as he fell to his knees before her, sobbing uncontrollably.

**TBC. . .**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Game of Thrones or anything associated with the show or the books.

**AN: I'm sorry about how long it took me to update. I've been busier at work than usual and its seriously eating into my writing time.**

**Chapter Thirteen.**

The Hand's study lacked the blatant grandeur of Cersei's own rooms; the arched brassbound door opened into a moderately sized stone chamber and two long crimson banners displaying the Sigil of House Lannister stood guard on either side of the doorway. Elaborate sideboards lined the squared room here and there though they were absent any vases, wreaths or unnecessary decoration, Tywin Lannister would never condone such ridiculousness in his domain. The dull scent of whitewash was light on the cool air which told her that the gleaming marble floor had recently been burnished by her Lord Father's Household maids. So recently in fact that the fresh air freely flowing into the chamber through four large arches looming behind her Father's enormous desk failed to mask the scent from her acute senses.

The midday sunlight streamed in through the archways that opened out onto a grand wrap-around balcony with a slightly rounded stone railing. It was a decidedly chilly day even though the bright sunlight falling in on her from the open arches forced her to sit at an angle in the hard low-backed chair she was currently perched on to avoid being momentarily blinded by the sharp rays of golden light. Her father's huge desk was almost as large as her own and the amassed papers and maps laid out on the polished surface very nearly rivalled her own paperwork, though his was neatly stacked on the far side near the Hand's high-backed chair, allowing for silver and gold oval shaped platters of succulent fruits, medallions of roasted and spiced meats along with buttered and toasted breads to sit among the documents close to the visitant's chairs that she and The Imp quietly occupied. Her Father was still detained in her bereaved Uncle Kevan's chambers while Grand Maester Pycelle prepared the best possible herbal remedy for a father's heartache over the loss of both his beloved sons.

Cersei pursed her full red lips as she stared unseeingly across her Father's desk. Herbs and quackery had done nothing to alleviate her sorrow over the death of her and her late husband's true first born son. She vividly remembered the excruciating agony of that loss, the feel of her heart clenching and calling out for her son to return just as she had longed to have her mother given back to her, how she had been unable to stop herself from screaming and weeping until her throat bled and her jade coloured eyes could produce no more tears. She had carried that dark haired little boy for nine months, felt him move inside her womb with such vehement energy that she had been determined to name him after Robert because she knew he would have been strong and an avid hunter just like his father. He'd managed to fight the fever that infected him for three painfully long days before his frail body had given out and he could fight no longer. Though she had desperately prayed and prayed for his recovery with the same fervency she had fostered while praying to the indifferent Gods to revive her mother. Part of her had instinctively sensed that tragic outcome, she had come to expect the granitic Gods to take what she loved hence the reason she protected those few she cared for by any means necessary, so she had refused to give him his name. Doing so would have solidified the wisplike bond that she had felt materialise with her unborn son every time she felt his fluttering movements in her stomach. She had emotionally distanced herself from her dark haired boy, purposefully and effectively, but she'd still felt like an executioner had plunged a broad sword through her heart as she watched his tiny chest cease to rise and fall with his shallow breathing.

The Queen's lips twisted into a melancholic smirk. Her persistent refusal to give him his name, visit the crypt where he lay among generations of entombed Baratheon's or in truth spare him much thought at all was born of well-placed fear. She didn't want to ever make herself vulnerable to that degree of agonising sorrow again and in retrospect she couldn't afford to. The Lioness of House Lannister was watched constantly by starving vultures that feed off of the beasts that fall beneath her claws and fangs but the vultures were without honour and they would swiftly turn on her should she ever become noticeably wounded, to conceal such scratches from her circling enemies she kept her thick golden pelt, her emotionless façade, well groomed. It was a matter of survival. She wondered if she would have survived the devastation of losing her cub had she not distanced herself, just as she mused if her Uncle Kevan's loss was felt more keenly because he'd had fifteen years with his sons before they were stolen from him, time enough to form the affections she had avoided, or less because he'd experienced a relatively happy life with them before it was cruelly ended.

It was perfectly natural for her subconscious mind to make these connections, given the development of recent events, but that knowledge did nothing to prevent her viciously condemning the unfamiliar sting of tears that burned her eyes as she silently stared over her father's desk, out onto the white marble balcony, while waiting for her Lord Hand to return from her Uncle's chambers. Obsessing over the unchangeable past and history's harrowing trials was entirely pointless. Cersei leaned forward in her modestly carved, oak, low-backed chair and with her long slender forefinger and thumb delicately plucked a small medallion of deliciously tenderised spiced lamb from one of the oval-shaped gold platters set on the desk in front of her. The meat was of the finest cuts available, the cooks in the Keep procured nothing but the best for the consumption of the Palace's inhabitants, and she was sure that had her mood been more pleasant she would have found a certain amount of pleasure in the succulent taste of lamb blended perfectly with a combination of spices, the meat was like thick bland ash in her mouth. She chewed the tender meat slowly and forced herself to swallow the lump of lamb before she licked the grease from her fingertips.

"Are you really so heartless that you can eat at a time like this?" Tyrion scowled beside her. Cersei tilted her head to the left and stared unblinkingly at The Imp with a practised mask of stoic disinterest painted across her face. Naturally, he held a gold ruby encrusted wine goblet in his hand, the circular base of the cup perched on the armrest of his chair, while he impatiently tapped his short fingers against his thigh repetitively. The Queen quizzically arched a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow at The Dwarf as she draped both her elegant hands over the curved armrests of her chair.

"Two young boys, our cousins, just a few years older than Myrcella have been slain and you sit there indulging in spiced lamb as though nothing had happened" His brows furrowed into a deep frown that contorted the large scar running from his left temple, down over his nose to his jaw and his glower darkened with his disapproval over her lack of an outward response to the saddening news of Martyn and Willem's untimely deaths.

"I suppose I should lock myself in my rooms and shed a river of tears instead?" Cersei drawled, pursing her full red lips as though she was in deep contemplation. Tyrion shook his head, disgusted with her tame satire. She rolled her eyes slowly, knowing The Dwarf would interpret such a casual action from her as genuinely frigid, but simply because she remained dry-eyed and reserved it didn't mean she was unaffected and The Imp was an even bigger fool than she had previously regarded him if he thought she was untouched by it.

"Its the proper thing for a woman to do, to show one's grief over the death of a kinsman" Tyrion remarked before he lifted his goblet to his lips and finished off his wine in a single gulp. With predictable quickness, he instantly reached for the bottle of smooth red wine on the edge of her father's ornate desk.

She sneered a derisive laugh. How like a whoremonger to pigeonhole all women into one classification and not a particularly accurate one at that. Did The Imp honestly believe that all women were either jaded whores or overemotional wretches?. Perhaps that was why she continued to outmanoeuvre him in the Game of Thrones, because he couldn't imagine her being more intelligent that he. The Queen subtly leaned back in her chair with a smirk curling the right corner of her perfect mouth upward.

"I'm no mere woman. Regardless, it would be absurd to cry over the deaths of two boys that are unknown to me, kinsman or not. I know of them by name alone, not by reputation or any true felt connection" Cersei stated calmly.

The slaying of two defenceless boys by seasoned and armed soldiers was a horrible catastrophe and couldn't be defined as anything less, her deepest heartfelt sympathies lay with her Uncle and his wife, but she couldn't force herself to feel anything more for two strangers. The news greatly saddened her, however she would not lie and act out a pretence of being more affected than she was.

"That may be so..." Cersei stiffened slightly in her chair when her Lord Father's deep baritone swept commandingly through his study like a summer storm clearing away an air of humidity in one fell swoop.

She regally lifted her head as her Lord Hand stalked into his domain without another word. The Imp hastily lurched out of his low-backed chair, as a sign of sycophantic respect, standing while Tywin Lannister prowled around his elaborate desk and took his seat across from them. She rolled her eyes at Tyrion's bootlicking but she remained silent. When her Father spoke she made certain to carefully listen to every word even if they seemed inconsequential at times because she knew absolutely everything he said, no matter how cryptic, was of crucial importance.

"...But they were still of our blood and they will be avenged as Lannister's" Her Lord Father linked his long fingers together and rested his hands atop his desk as he stared over the table at her, and only her. The Imp might as well of not been in the study at all, neither she nor the elder Lannister paid Tyrion any heed as he sat back down. If she had been anyone else she would have flinched in response to the hard incisive edge in her Lord hand's icy blue eyes.

"According to my 'friends' at Riverrun the traitorous swine responsible for Willem and Martyn's murders has already been put to death by the young pup himself." Cersei watched her Father's facial expression carefully as she made her report, as far as she was concerned justice had been administered and there was no need for her to pursue the matter any further. But her Father likely didn't share her sentiment.

As Queen she officially surpassed her Lord Hand on the chain of social hierarchy and yet she was distinctly aware of how childlike she felt under his scrutinising gaze, his piercing eyes seemed to strip away all titles, all façades and attempts at nonchalance until she was left with her throat bared to the Alpha of her Pride. Despite the feeling of vulnerability sending shivers down her spine she refused to shy away from Tywin Lannister's stare. Her Father smirked slightly, it was a barely noticeable tilt of his lips, a colder reflection of her own signature smirk. She had inherited many things from the Head of her House.

"Northern justice..." He spat as his condescending smirk vanished "...The boys will be avenged as Lannister's by Lannister's"

"Do tell us then Father, what will _Lannister _gold be buying this time?..." Tyrion shifted in his low-backed chair beside her while she sat in silent thought.

Her Lord Hand gave nothing away in his schooled expression but there was no doubt in her mind that her father had just delivered her a riddle in need of solving. The secret to understanding his deliberate conundrum was in dissecting each syllable he uttered until she found the true meaning behind his words, a simple enough task until one was charged with actually figuring it out. She was the only living person capable of such an extraordinary feat. While she was proud of the fact, she also found it truly daunting because the challenge often required days if not weeks of relentless brooding on her part which only served to constantly remind her that as formidable an opponent as she was, her father was even more adapt at winning. His unpredictability and determination made him incalculably dangerous to everyone, Lannister or no.

"...Faceless Men perhaps?, to assassinate Robb Stark while he is busy with that new Volantene wife of his?. I hear she is a beauty" Tyrion drained his wine goblet again but before he could reach for the bottle perched on the edge of the desk her Father swiftly snatched the half empty glass wine bottle away from The Imp.

The elder Lannister stared stoically at The Dwarf while he blindly poured the smooth sweet tasting beverage into the remain two goblets standing side by side on a corner of the desk among the official documents and platters of food on the oak table. Her Lord Hand didn't remove his sharp stare from The Imp, not once, the sheer intimidating force of that icy blue gaze had Tyrion fidgeting in mere moments. The Queen absently studied the two men, bemused, that was the reward that accompanied completion of the riddle; she would finally learn the specifics of her Father's plan concerning the Stark's. Tywin Lannister seemed to naturally sense when both jewel encrusted goblets were appropriately filled. The silver-haired man set the bottle down in the left corner of his desk, well out of The Imp's reach, lifted one golden goblet and extended the cup over the desk to her.

Cersei took the cordially offered goblet in her right hand, her signet ring flashed when the square face caught the sunlight streaming in from the four arches behind her Father's chair, she carried the surprisingly hefty goblet to her full red lips. An equally heavy silence dragged out while, in unison, both she and her Lord Father took a single measured sip of the luxuriously intoxicating wine, both of them studying each other over the rims of their gold ruby encrusted cups. The silky liquid slid down her elegant throat and into her flat stomach with delicious ease, leaving behind only a slight burning sensation, after she swallowed the crimson wine. There was a familiar gleam in her Lord Father's eyes, she noticed as she lowed her goblet to the edge of the wide oak desk and subsequently draped her graceful hands over the armrests of her chair, a meaningful glint that she had seen a thousand times before, it told her that he wished to speak with her alone about a matter far too important for a certain lecherous stump to bare witness to. She tilted her head without daring to lower her gaze, refusing to show an ounce of weakness. She had been wondering how long the Great Lord Tywin Lannister would ignore the fact every Westerosi; whether they boasted common, noble or bastard blood, reaching from King's Landing down to Dorne and stretching all the way back North to Winterfell and likely even The Wall beyond, was bustling over the news that Queen Cersei Lannister was bedding another _woman_ and not just any woman, a _Stark. _She almost felt physically ill at the prospect of receiving her Lord Father's verdict on her preferences, that The Faith of the Seven openly marked as 'degenerate', until her jade coloured eyes snagged on the bright sun-kissed rubies set into her gold wine goblet and she detected a lack of any additional edge to her Father's hard eyes as he regarded her over the table surface. In fact he looked at her in the same manner he always had ever since she departed her beloved mother's womb; with cold observance.

"And I hear you've begun to show particular favour to a single whore. Need I remind you of what happened the last time you thought someone was capable of loving _you_ and not Lannister gold?..." Tywin Lannister directed his harsh attention back to The Imp. Her Lord Father's stinging comment made Tyrion flinch tellingly.

"...If I am forced to protect the reputation of my House from such filth again, I swear by the Seven that I will not be nearly as kind as I was before, do you hear me Dwarf?" It was a warning to Tyrion, that The Imp must keep a cloak of the utmost desecration secured around _Shae _or else face the consequences of shaming the most powerful House in the Seven Kingdoms_._ Her father didn't raise his voice but then he never had to in order to seize one's entire attention or to make himself sound more commanding. If anything Tywin Lannister was never more dangerous than when he was talking in a relatively tame manner, the constant deep baritone told his victims that he was deadly serious and dedicated to his threats as he issued them.

"Indeed I do Father" Tyrion nodded solemnly, her brother was smart enough to know there was no point to denying what was obvious to the older man and that he would have to fortify defences around _Shae's _true 'purpose' at King's Landing. Conspicuous lying would achieve nothing save Tywin Lannister's insidious ire. The Imp took a deep breath to gather his courage before he darted a glance to the side, to her, as though he was fearfully expecting her to supply the identity and immediate whereabouts of his 'lover'. Cersei scoffed internally. She didn't give her word lightly and she never broke an Oath once sworn. She'd vowed that her Father would not discover the specific details of Tyrion's secret from her and he wouldn't. Though it was more that probable the elder Lannister was already toying with how he was going to punish The Imp for daring to bring a whore to the Capital with him in the first instance. The possibilities were endless for one with a mind like Tywin Lannister, or her.

"You better had, or your lechery will earn you a similar fate to Varys. Now leave us" Her Lord Hand ordered sharply. Tyrion continued to stare beseechingly at her but she refused to acknowledge him, he insulted her by doubting her word, in her mind he deserved to flounder in uncharted seas. Heaving a heavy resigned sigh, The Imp hopped down from his chair and took his leave from The Hand's Study. Cersei swallowed and crossed her long toned legs at the knee as she listened to the sounds of receding footsteps on marble stone and the brassbound door being heaved open and dragged closed behind The Dwarf.

As she met her Father's steely gaze, the fresh air freely streaming into the moderately sized chamber through the four grand arches behind Tywin Lannister's high-backed oak chair seemed to slowly disappear as the silence loomed, like a towering adult dragon, almost making it difficult for her to breathe. When first coming to terms with her sexual preferences at a young age she used to experience night terrors about the day her Lord Father would discover her attraction to women, her nightmares had been filled with every mental and physical horror imaginable, the stolid coolness Tywin Lannister regarded her with was a far cry from all her expectations. There was still time for the anticipated degradation to begin, she couldn't read the man sat across from her like she could read all the rest, he could be simply toying with her by remaining quiet. But she was prepared to skilfully parry each attack as they were launched at her. She took a deep breath while her Lord Father pulled open one of his desk drawers. A soft frown furrowed her perfect blonde eyebrows when he produced a thick bundle of unsealed letters, bound together by a thin strip of crimson silk, her Father placed the two dozen or so missives among the many stacks of official documents and expensive silverware and withdrew his hands, interlinking his fingers, and resting his palms on the tabletop. Taking another breath, Cersei reached for the collection of letters and slipped the crimson binding from around the parchments. The missives had been carefully opened to avoid damage to the wax seals so it was easy for her to identify the many Sigils as they appeared before her while she quickly flicked through the letters. The missives were from the vast majority of all the Houses, both Greater and Lesser, of Westeros. She placed the letters back on the elaborate oak desk and arched a slender brow at her Lord Hand.

"What news?" She asked, genuinely curious but still on guard.

"Those are requests from the Lords of various Houses begging for audiences so that they might come to King's Landing and personally give you their Oaths of Fealty and their best wishes to the future Queen..." Tywin Lannister informed her calmly "...Including some of the Stark's and Baratheon's disillusioned Bannermen. Your ploy has worked in our favour"

"'Ploy'?. I am not entirely sure I know what it is you're referring to, Father"

"The Stark girl. I assume the only reason you've chosen this particular time to reveal your 'tastes' to all the Kingdoms is to prove the legitimacy of your children, yes?" His gaze seemed to tear through her skin and muscle into her very soul. And that was when she realised how foolish she had been to think she'd been successful in keeping him unaware.

"You knew about me, before today" Cersei surmised. That was why her Father was so composed about it all, so unaffected. He already knew she would sooner slit her own throat or volunteer for a public flogging rather than take a man between her thighs.

"You are my daughter. I know everything about you..." He stated confidently "...I have always known ever since you started taking an interest in your Handmaids at a tender age"

"But you never said anything to me. Not once, not as a reprimand or in solace" Tywin Lannister stared at her as though he couldn't fathom why she would say such a thing, as if it were ludicrous for a child to seek guidance from a parent on such a matter. Anger began to boil in her veins, anger that the elder Lannister had let her live questioning her preferences until she had grown weary of the constant confusion plaguing her mind and decided with Jaime's help that her desire for other women was utterly normal.

"You have always tended your lusts with discretion..." He waved his hand dismissively "...And you married when I told you to. There was never any need to discuss it"

"Do you accept me as I am then Father?. Or have I brought shame to your Great Legacy this day?" She spat snidely.

Tywin Lannister was consumed with the need to secure his eternal legacy, to him there was nothing more important and if he felt she had endangered the respectability of their House then the shields she had painstakingly placed around her lover would soon be tested. It was the only reason she was still sat in her Lord Hand's chamber, she had to deduce whether or not her SheWolf was at risk from her Father.

"The Stark girl is of noble blood and in the days to come she will continue to be just as useful as she has proved herself to be already, for that reason alone I will let you keep her, but the day she gives me a reason to take notice of her again is the day I will kill her. Do you understand me, daughter?" She understood that he was serious and that he avoided giving her a plain answer for a reason.

"I'm still your 'daughter' then..." Cersei said. She intended to act as the permanent buffer between Tywin Lannister's incisive eyes and her cherished lover, he would never have a justifiable excuse to move against Sansa and the day that he did was the day she went for his throat.

"...Does this mean you finally acknowledge that _I am_ your Legacy, not Jaime, me" She gracefully rose up out of her chair and collected the bundle of letters, not giving him the chance to answer her simply because she knew he wouldn't, she turned on her heel and with her head held high elegantly stalked toward the brassbound door across the marble chamber.

"...Bring me Arya Stark. I know you have her and I want her here as soon as possible"

* * *

><p>An hour later, Cersei was sequestered in her immense and luxuriously furnished chambers, sat at her intricately carved oak desk in a majestically carved high-backed chair with a white-feathered quill held loosely in her graceful right hand and several pieces of fine parchment set out in front of her on the polished surface.<p>

She was absentmindedly addressing the numerous letters requesting formal audiences with her. Her addressees had all wrote to her with a certain fawning flair but she saw to it that her regal penmanship etched the same blunt message on each new piece of fine parchment. She invited all the Lords of Westeros, great or minor, to attend her Coronation in one month's time following Joffrey's wedding to Margaery Tyrell and when The War of the Five Kings had ended with one undisputed Queen ruling all Seven of the Kingdoms. She was looking forward to listening to the many different ways in which her nobles could subtly apologise for suspecting her children of being the illegitimate product of incest. It was sure to be an interesting evening.

Biting back a sigh of boredom, Cersei replaced her quill in the ink bottle in the corner of her desk and retrieved the ever shortening squared stick of crimson wax from beside her writing materials before she guided the sealing wax to the subdued flame dancing atop a small candle on her desk. The flame crackled and hissed angrily as a single blood red drop dribbled down onto the candlewick. She guided the partially melted wax stick to hover over her letter and she urged a thick glob of Lannister red wax to pool at the bottom of the page. After replacing the sealing wax on a scrap of dirty cloth on her desk near the candle, she eased her signet ring from her slender middle finger and pressed the squared face of the solid gold ring into the sticky substance, marking the document with the striking face of a gallant lion.

"Mama?" Cersei made a noise in the back of her throat and turned her head to study Myrcella when she felt her daughter cautiously tug on the lace sleeve of her dress. The Queen smiled warmly, jade coloured eyes sparkling with maternal adoration when they landed on her treasured cub. She moved her letter away from prying eyes on account of Myrcella being intuitive enough to detect the harshness in her written word and she wasn't yet ready for her cub to realise the necessity of being cruel especially when her beloved daughter was of a beautifully compassionate nature.

"What is it, my darling?" Myrcella held up a book bound in black leather, one of a series entitled 'The Histories of Westeros'. Cersei pursed her full lips suspiciously and held out her hand for the thick volume. After the news of her cousin's deaths and the resulting flair of painful memories she had decided that her children would take their lessons where she could keep her eyes occasionally fixed upon them. Over on the grand solid oak four poster with a thick crimson velvet canopy, Sansa and Tommen leaned back against the large plush pillows atop the silk bedsheets. She smiled tenderly, her lover had one slender arm draped around her son's shoulders as she read to the young Prince quietly.

"Have you actually read this?" She arched an eyebrow, laying the book on her desk among her paperwork. Myrcella nodded so enthusiastically anyone else might have been fooled by the sincere glint in her daughter's bright eyes. Her smile turned into a playful smirk as she pushed her finely crafted high-backed chair out from under her desk a little and gently gripped her cub's hips, hauling Myrcella onto her lap.

"Then why is it I have trouble believing this?" Cersei wrapped her arms around Myrcella's waist and nuzzled the little blonde's ear. Mirth danced in The Queen's eyes when the Princess sighed in defeat. She linked her fingers together over her daughter's stomach when Myrcella leaned back into her ample chest, her cub tilted her blonde head back up at her with a sombre frown. She knew what her only daughter was going to ask her before Myrcella's lips even parted. Gossip was a rampant disease in the Capital, even children were susceptible to it. She took a deep breath and braced herself.

"Mama, why do people have to die?" Myrcella cocked her head curiously.

Cersei nearly chuckled bitterly. Her daughter always asked her the most difficult questions, questions she could easily answer with a little more openness if her cub was just a little bit older with a little more knowledge of the world and the things inhabiting it. But her child was still young and her first instinct was to protect the Princess's wide-eyed innocence for as long as she could. She was determined that Myrcella would be gentler than she was, no less strong or cunning or wise, but certainly gentler. She would ruthlessly sculpt the Seven Kingdoms into a secure Den for her cub to rule without having to be as pointedly cruel as she was. She nibbled on her lower lip as she gazed back at Myrcella. She could hardly blurt out that the Gods were cruel bastards and they entertained themselves by hurting mankind in the most terrible ways simply because they would never feel as people felt. That death was a natural part of living and it could not be controlled, she could just imagine the fear such a statement would incite in her daughter.

"Perhaps you would know if you tended your studies properly, mm?" She grazed her short fingernails over Myrcella's sensitive abdomen through the expensive material of the Princess's Lannister red dress, she tickled her daughter until her cub was squirming furiously in her lap and giggle delightedly. She laughed lilting and kissed her daughter's pale cheek.

"Mama!, stop!, stop!" Red faced, Myrcella panted desperately as she laughed and fidgeted. She ceased tormenting her daughter and kissed her cub's cheek once again.

"But I shall forgive your lacking attention this once my darling, for I have another task for you to offer assistance. Something I think you'll find far more entrancing..." She whispered conspiratorially. Myrcella stared at her intently with expectant eyes and a bright smile. With her head, she gestured her daughter off her lap. She stood up from her chair and took her Heiress's hand in hers, she guided Myrcella across her chamber toward her huge four poster bed that dominated a huge portion of the expansive chamber. She loomed behind Myrcella, resting her hands on her daughter's shoulders, as she looked over the girl's head at her curious SheWolf and her drowsy-eyed son.

"Sandor!" The Hound burst into her bedchamber before the last syllable of his name had left her mouth.

"Your Grace?" Sandor inclined his head to her, a gesture he mirrored to her children and Sansa.

"Sansa will need your help moving her things into my chamber. You will carry her baggage and Myrcella, you and your brother will help her fold and pack. If you are finished by the time dinner is being served I may consider taking you out into the city in a few days time. Are you up to the task?" She murmured down to her daughter. A cherub's grin spread over Myrcella's beautiful face. Tommen was hopping down from her bed and hurrying over to his older sister with a similar smile.

"Of course Mama. Come, Tommen" Myrcella took Tommen's hand and all but skipped toward the arched doorway. The Hound looked to her for his leave before he diligently hurried after her cubs, his long stride carried him over the distance in a few steps. She cocked her head at the redhead as she gracefully climbed off of her bed, _their _bed, it was going to require time for her to grow accustomed to thinking of it as such. She smiled dotingly, warmth blossoming in her chest, as she stood watching Sansa fuss with the satin ties her tight corset. She was going to enjoy not having to discreetly sneak Sansa out of her chamber at the first pale signs of dawn each day.

"Though you'll have to unpack without my input I'm afraid. I've a lot of work to get through" Cersei murmured, reaching out to gently push Sansa's hands aside from the criss-crossing ties that held the redhead's corset in place. She smiled roguishly to herself as she deliberately loosened several of the neat bows slightly, her smile grew when she looked up with a smouldering at the younger woman through her thick blonde lashes.

"I-is it about my mother and brother...after..." Sansa nibbled on her full lower lip nervously, staring down at her feet. The Queen cupped her lover's delicate chin between her thumb and forefinger and forced her SheWolf to look up into her jade coloured eyes.

"Nothing has changed. Your brother has addressed the unpleasant event in a manner I find satisfactorily. Their lives are safe..." Cersei assured softly, though she would feel more confidence in her own promise when she had solved her Father's cryptic riddle. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against Sansa's mouth, savouring the intimate sweetness of her lover's full lips beneath hers as they kissed deeply and tenderly.

"...Go now, before I change my mind" Cersei nipped her SheWolf's plump lower lip teasingly, as if she would. Sansa smiled widely, knowingly, pale wolf eyes flashing brightly. She smirked when the younger woman's slender arms snaked around her graceful neck, in return she gripped Sansa's svelte hips in her hands and held her lover's warm body close to hers for an idyllically long dulcet moment. It was only with the greatest reluctance she softly pushed her lover away.

"Your eager little 'servants' await your direction, my SheWolf" She prompted with a playful smirk. If at all possible, Sansa's smile widened further as the younger woman stroked her upper arm lovingly before the redhead gracefully strode for the arched door, drawing the heavy oak closed behind her. Cersei stood still as a perfect statue, gazing down at her shared four poster bed with a wicked gleam in her eye and content sigh on her full red lips where Sansa's intoxicating taste lingered.

* * *

><p>Time became a fast flowing river, something she had no real grasp on, as eventide descended and she was forced to light the strategically located candles to maintain some illumination. The Queen sat at her desk buried deep in her thoughts while Sansa, her cubs and The Hound made recurrent appearances in her chambers. She was only vaguely aware of Sansa's belongings becoming intermingled with her own throughout the richly furnished marble room. She made a point to admire the welcomed changes at a later time when her mind was less weighted.<p>

The Imp hadn't been incorrect when he'd suggested that Lannister gold would factor into her Father's planned downfall of the Stark's still hostile to her reign and to her family. However Tyrion's aim fell ridiculously short of the mark, assassins were creatures of subtly and concealment. Her Lord Father would want to make an example of what becomes of those foolish enough to challenge the noble House of Lannister. But neither would her Lord Hand lay a full-scale military assault on the Stark's remaining forces, a battle would hazard Robb Stark dying swiftly at the hands of a single solider and Tywin Lannister would desire something a little more shocking, grotesque, personal. Like a lean needle shoved directly through the pup's heart. Not only that but her Father had already informed her that the huge Lannister and Tyrell armies were being prepared for a decisive attack on Dragon Stone where Stannis Baratheon had cloistered himself after his crushing defeat at the Battle of Blackwater. So what or who was her Father going to buy to end it all?.

Cersei ran her hand through the long glossy strands of her thick blonde hair. Frustration left a bad taste in the back of her mouth and an unsettling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She ran her long slender fingers through her hair again and breathed a sigh through a dark scowl. She made a soft involuntary noise of surprise when she felt something warm and wedge-shaped come to rest heavily on her toned thigh. She glanced downward to find a pair of wide pale blue eyes staring up at her, she arched an eyebrow and smirked at Duchess when the wolf uttered a soft whine. She moved her hand from the top of her desk and buried her fingers in the thick white fur covering the nape of the dire-wolf's neck. Her lover's loyal companion leaned more firmly against her leg with her tail loudly swishing back and forth across the marble floor when The Queen started to scratch the Duchess's warm ears. She smiled fondly at the ever-growing pup, who was now the size of an average adult wolf with a considerable amount of growing still left, whoever would have thought the Lioness of House Lannister would claim the trust of not one but two SheWolves. Cersei cocked her head suddenly; trust. Gold corrupted the morals of everyone it touched, unless they were born to exuberant amounts like herself or they were abnormally honourable. Her Father was going to buy the loyalty of one of Robb Stark's remaining Bannermen and have them deliver the killing blow.

But who would her Father target?. Walder Frey?, the disgusting and disreputable man couldn't keep an Oath if his life depended upon it. Robb Stark had insulted Walder Frey by breaking his own vow to marry one of the daughters of Frey and according to her 'eyes' the pup journeyed to the Twins with a different proposal of marriage. Perhaps, but Walder Frey was also one of the most faineant Lords in the Kingdoms. Tywin Lannister would bribe a second traitor, someone more headlong with a genuine enjoyment for hurting others. And image came to her mind's eye, that of a flayed man, the Sigil of House Bolton. Though torture is outlawed in the North, Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, and his family were famous for flaying the skin from their enemies as a form of punishment, hence the origin of their unrefined Sigil. Cersei grinned victoriously to herself, that was the answer to the riddle. The Queen used both her hands to scratch Duchess's pointed ears as she smiled to herself, the dire-wolf stared up at her and panted happily at the attention. Abruptly her focus was snagged by the sight of Sandor hefting a wide oak trunk with a collection of leaves carved along the edges with an ease only a man his size could manage.

"Sandor, come here for a moment" She beckoned when Sansa, Myrcella and Tommen trailed back into the chamber wearing wide and bright smiles that warmed her heart. The Hound set the heavy trunk down near her four poster bed and padded toward her. The hulking man crossed his massive arms over his broad chest.

"Your Grace?" Sandor tilted his head. The orange candlelight illuminating the room caught the uneven pink scar covering half his face.

"When you've finished here. I want you to take an expeditionary force, large enough to win a battle with ease should one occur, and leave immediately for the Twins. When you arrive find some of Lord Frey's men, specifically, and inform them that you've arrived to assist with Lord Tywin's plot to murder Robb and Catelyn Stark. Wait for the debacle to begin before you prevent it. I'm giving you the authority to arrest Roose Bolton and Walder Frey for high treason, from there you will escort them and the Stark's back here to King's Landing. Do whatever necessary to make the journey but I want all four of them here, alive, and ready for judgement" Cersei instructed firmly but quietly to avoid the other three in the room from overhearing. Sandor nodded his understanding, before he uncrossed his arms, seeming to foresee a problem.

"A battle is sure to break out, Your Grace. Bolton and Frey won't submit without offering resistance, neither will the Stark's. It may be necessary to route their forces first" Sandor rested his hands on her desk and leaned forward to inform just as quietly. Cersei smiled up at her most loyal liege-subject as she continued to scratch Duchess behind the Wolf's point ears.

"Sandor, you are going to prevent Bolton and Frey from massacring the Stark's and their men, in my name. The honourable wolves are going to owe me their lives and that is not a debt of life they are going to relish owing. Their honour will demand a rapid repayment and that is how I am going to end this pitiful war. So it is imperative that you allow Robb and Catelyn Stark to realise the severity of the dire situation Bolton and Frey have organised before you go to their defence. I will have these treacherous wolves collared."

**TBC. . .**

**AN: I've still got a lot on at work and school so the next chapter could take a while for me to write but when I say 'To Be Continued' I mean it. So I guess I'm asking you all to continue being as amazingly patient as you've been with my erratic updating schedule, I really appreciate it and I will get back to this story as soon as I can. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Game Of Thrones or anything associated with either the Show or the Books.

**AN: I am so sorry about the delay on this update, I honestly typed this up as quickly as I could but having to pick up a second job a couple weeks ago and catching tonsillitis while revising and sitting two exams meant I couldn't get much more than a hundred words written in one sitting. By the way I'm on strong antibiotics and painkillers right now so I apologise if my grammar or punctuation veers in places, heh heh, I have proof read this chapter a few times but given that my attention span is rather crappy at present I am sure I probably missed something.**

**Chapter Fourteen.**

Head thrown back, the silken ends of her thick mane of waist-length golden blonde hair brushed against the supple musculature of her arched lower back and the thoroughly rumpled bedsheets beneath her firm backside, a thin sheen of perspiration made her pale flesh glisten in the dim grey morning light spilling across the magnificence of her bed, the Lannister Lioness let loose a satisfied growl that rumbled audibly in the hollow of her elegant throat where her Mother's golden pendent rested against her fiery skin. Heated whimpers and weakened moans, not her own, echoed loudly in her ears as she blindly stared up at the underside of the crimson velvet canopy adorning the four oak posts of her bed through half lidded unfocused eyes.

Spasmodically, Cersei's lean hips continued to arch upward, a vivid shadow of her former vigorousness now that she had followed her SheWolf and reached the glorious precipice of ecstasy. Heady pleasure continued to race potently through her veins like a raging storm setting ardent fire to every inch and curve of her desired body and her lover's delicate hands gripped her slender shoulders hard enough to leave behind light purplish bruises. The perfectly lissome muscles in Cersei's long legs, spread wide while Sansa's own naked limbs were draped over her hips in the centre of their bed deliciously meshing their wet cores together with each synchronised roll of their pelvises, tensed and shifted smoothly beneath her skin as her toes curled into the bedsheets under the soles of her feet. An involuntary grin lazily bared The Queen's perfect white teeth at the majestic golden lion painstakingly woven into the heavy canopy overhead as she held her satiated lover in her lap.

A slaked purr resounded in Cersei's heaving chest as her passion swollen breasts intimately touched against Sansa's soft mounds of warm flesh and their flat stomachs melded into one another's. Her SheWolf's hot breath brushed over the shell of her ear in desperate gasps as the younger woman attempted to regulate her breathing and clutched at her in the aftermath of desire. Entirely spent after a full night of endless lovemaking, Sansa's head rested heavily in the crook of Cersei's elegant neck and her Paramour's long thick red hair fell over her shoulder and upper arm, caressing her sensitised skin as she cradled the beautiful flawlessness of her lover's quivering form against every inch of her body. The Queen's jade coloured eyes fluttered as she tenderly stroked the tips of her fingers up and down the smooth stretch of her SheWolf's back, a feather-light caress that sent goosebumps rising up from Sansa's fair skin, pressing into the pads of her fingers as the younger woman shivered responsively and her SheWolf's legs tightened around her slim waist.

Languidly running the backs of her knuckles along the refined length of Sansa's spine, the soft ridges of her vertebrae slightly dampened with sweat, Cersei captured the nape of the redhead's glorious neck between her thumb and forefinger and gently kneaded the pleasantly lax muscles buried beneath her lover's smooth skin. Before she delicately wrapped the heavy fall of her cherished SheWolf's long red hair around her elegant fist and swiftly coaxed Sansa's head back, off the slope of her shoulder, so that she could stare intently into the younger woman's brilliantly pale wolf eyes. Her swollen red lips parted with lascivious appreciation as she silently observed Sansa's sky blue and dove grey eyes were half lidded and her aristocratically sculpted cheekbones were stained with an exerted flush. Her Paramour's refined beauty was always amplified a thousand-fold in this post coital state, after she had devoted hours to worshipping her younger lover's delectable body to the fullest extent with every honed skill she boasted and after she had been the welcoming recipient of similar, less adept but exhaustively ardent, attentions from Sansa.

Unbidden, The Queen's hips suddenly canted upward smoothly into the cradle of Sansa's mesmerising body forcing a short soft cry of pleasure from the younger woman's intoxicating lips as their sensitised wet flesh met in a hot and most intimate kiss. Cersei bit back a moan of such rapture that the lean muscles in her neck jerked visibly as her heart fluttered and heat swept down. She clenched her oval shaped jaw so tightly a persistent tick formed in her cheek as a wave of scolding lust once again pooled in the pit of her stomach and the ever burning warmth thriving inside her chest blossomed, burning brighter. Sansa clutched at her shoulders tighter, and as she held the younger woman close in her lap with sure hands, she felt her lover's short sharp nails graze over her pale flesh, doubtlessly leaving soft red welts trailing through the light purple bruises accumulated across the backs of her shoulders. An idle smile returned to The Queen's lips. She truly relished how unrestrained her lover was in bed though it had taken some time for Sansa to become so quietly confident, for the first instance she savoured being marked by a bed-partner and she enjoyed knowing she was primarily responsible for coaxing free such molten passion from the once timid redhead.

Not for the first time, indeed there had been many an occasion that, tender hearted words piled heavily onto the tip of her tongue, reverent and gentle, sweet nothings worth a full grown Dragon's weight in gold, words that once again refused to run free from her clutches even though she fervently wished for it to be otherwise. No matter how hard she struggled, like a wild animal existing in captivity repeatedly throwing itself against the steel bars of its oppressive cage in the vain hope of attaining freedom, she couldn't quite seem to make herself echo the three simple words that Sansa had whispered in her ears a thousand times since her Paramour had first tearfully declared during the Battle of Blackwater. Something prevented her from making herself so open, so irrevocably vulnerable.

Her comfortability with emotional attachments had broadened quite considerably during her time with Sansa but her Lord Hand had relentlessly trained her from the day of her Mother's death to guard herself against the possibility of caring for anyone outside of her own House and to limit her connections to those within her family. If she were naïve, she might have considered that almost perversely caring on her Father's part, even speculated that perhaps he didn't want his cubs to suffer like he had when his mate was stolen from him. But she knew the truth, appearance and reality were two very different things, to love another made a person open to the gravest of injuries, a crippling wound to the heart should it ever be lost or that trust be betrayed. Any Lannister worthy of bearing the name, at her last count there were only three, had a pathological reputation for being cold and cunning, or at the very least they were highly reputable, and it was their, almost sacred, duty to maintain that reputation by any means necessary.

Her Lord Hand did not tolerate weakness in even the lowliest of Lannister's hence his swift quashing of her bereaved Uncle following the slaying of his sons. Ser Kevan Lannister would not be allowed to re-enter the public eye until the Head of their House was satisfied he had properly composed himself. Neither she, nor her Father, could not allow a perception of them that would damage their reputation as a feared and respected House to fester and pulsate like an abscessed wound leaking yellow pus across clean white bandages. She sat on the Iron Throne, she controlled Seven Kingdoms and the preservation of the Lannister Legacy was crucial to the Lord Paramount of the West. Strength of will was needed to maintain _their_ way of life, the only thing that could. But where she ruthlessly protected what could weaken her, Sansa and her cubs, by any means necessary to fortify her reputation and standing, her Father destroyed pointedly and uncaring of the calamitous object.

Love, the loss of it, had destroyed her Father's ability to know true happiness and his willingness to accept it in others. In many ways Tywin Lannister was a Lion absent his sense of smell, he still possessed all his other keen senses, his fangs and claws, making him still extremely dangerous to all but he was incomplete. Love could tear an individual apart just as easily as it could inspire a person to new spires of life.

With her long slender fingers still buried in the wealth of her lover's thick silken hair, Cersei dragged Sansa's head down to hers and pressed their foreheads together as her other arm tightened around her SheWolf's gloriously naked body, pulling the younger woman ever closer to her in her lap, utterly unwilling to allow even an inch of space to exist between them. An easy silence wrapped around their closely entwined bodies as the grey morning light spilling across the rumpled crimson bedsheets slowly lightened with the rising sun shinning in through the golden paned window dominating the far-side wall of the expansive polished marble chamber. She tilted her head and ghosted her lips down the softness of Sansa's porcelain pale cheek to press an adoring kiss to the corner of her Paramour's mouth, guiding the younger woman into a smooth melding of soft lips and tongues dancing in unison. While Sansa moaned with passionate abandon into their kiss, the tender words she had felt writhing in her mouth just moments before begrudgingly accepted their fate, ceasing their wild struggling against the bars of their cage and collapsing in fatigue. Cersei tore her lips away from Sansa's, leaving them both slightly breathless, she rested their foreheads together once more and sighed heavily. The Queen swiped her red tongue over her full lips, savouring the remaining traces of her lover's sweet taste, like fine wine and ripe fruit in Summer. She didn't make a noise or utter a single word but buried deep in her heart a Lioness bowed her golden head and snarled, mourning another lost opportunity.

It was the Gift and Curse of being a child of the Great Tywin Lannister, of being raised in his immense shadow on the legendary crags of Casterly Rock. She could make the 'little birds' around her believe with absolute certainty that she felt one thing and was following one iron-clad line of thought when in actuality she cozened them into an elaborate labyrinth of falsity, all with the greatest of ease, but when it came to expressing the truth of what existed within her heart and mind, she could feel the unrelenting callousness of her Lord Father's hand tightly coiled around her throat, robbing her of breath and stealing her ability to speak. What did it say of her character?, that she could design undetectable lies, intricate plots and deadly snares with more efficiency than a spider could weave a silken web but she couldn't whisper the truth of her devout affections for Sansa?. By the Gods there were a dozen possible answers but her SheWolf had already caught scent of her own conclusion.

Cersei tightened her arm around her lover's waist, kneading the slim curve of the redhead's hip with one hand while with the other she softly caressed the younger woman's nape. Sansa's gentle hands stroked over her shoulders so tenderly that the horribly profound ache in her chest began to ease slowly as she cradled her SheWolf's naked body in her lap on her large four-poster bed. The younger woman's long legs flexed around her tiny waist, a single soft fluttery motion across the rumpled crimson bedsheets bathed in mellow morning light. A soft contented purr rumbled in the hollow of her throat and her eyes drifted closed when Sansa started to stroke soft fingertips over her face, tracing the elegant contours as though the redhead were utterly captivated by her ageless beauty.

Her sigh of delight at her Paramour's loving touch made her entire body tremble in response, a fluid shifting of muscles beneath pale skin. She forced her eyes open to find an idyllic smile painted across Sansa's invigoratingly resplendent face, her breath caught in the back of her throat at the beauteous sight bearing down on her from above. There was a unique understanding in her lover's gorgeous eyes that fascinated her, a knowing glint that sparkled brightly in the younger woman's pale blue-grey orbs like the golden streams of newly emerging light outside the broad window. Her SheWolf understood that she was plagued with an internal quandary. She couldn't possibly identify the exact moment Sansa had learned how to read her but it never failed to make her smile to herself because it solidified what had been building for since the first; she was inside Sansa as much as the redhead was in her, they possessed each other, no longer did they exist on their own, now they belonged to each other. Sansa gave voice to that visceral bond every time the younger woman whispered to her of her love but she just couldn't reciprocate with words even in the quiet realm of their shared chambers. That her SheWolf knew how she felt and quite happily settled for harbouring that unexpressed knowledge close to heart didn't matter, Sansa deserved to _hear_her recognition of the ties that bound them but she was barely able to admit the connection to herself though she felt it down to her very bones, carrying warmth and vitality into her every fibre. But she was her Father's daughter.

Cersei smoothed her graceful hands up over the subtle juts of Sansa's slight hips, finally urging the younger woman to unfold her long legs from around her waist with a soft push against the sweat-slicked plane of of her lover's flat stomach. The right corner of The Queen's succulent mouth tilted upward at the soft, spent mewl of protest that fell from her SheWolf's full lips while she gently extracted herself from her Paramour's embrace, tucking her legs under her muscular rump as she rose up onto her knees atop the askew crimson bedsheets and watched with a gentle gleam in her jade coloured eyes as Sansa sluggishly draped her naked body over the collection of plush pillows strewn against the headboard in a thoroughly dishevelled state, the younger woman's long red hair spilled across the expensive satin encasing the pillows still adorning the large bed, several had been sent over the edge to the marble floor. She leaned back further on her knees and rested her hands on her bare thighs, she watched in silent awe as the morning light caught Sansa's pale wolf eyes, making them sparkle like precious gems.

Cersei cocked her head to the side, fondness in her chest and a lazy tilt to her lips as Sansa's pretty eyes fluttered tiredly. "I do hope I've not worn you out too thoroughly, my dear. If you recall, I vowed to take the children out into the City today and they will be most upset if you are unable to accompany us. Do not mistake that for any form of an apology however" She grinned smugly. She enjoyed nothing more than filling their nights with pleasure, the consequent fatigue the following day be damned, the enjoyable ache in her joints was well earned.

Majestically with the long fall of her golden blonde hair falling down over her lightly bruised shoulders and brushing the sheets beneath her, she crawled on all fours to the edge of her bed, the thick and downy furs of various lethal beasts that were scattered across the floors touched her bare soles as she graciously climbed to her feet. She was highly aware of her lover's grey-blue eyes caressing the perfect lithesome contours of her body like a physical touch. Just as confident naked as she was fulling clothed, she strode around the side of her shared bed to the wide and deepset oak trunk nestled there at the curved footboard, the lid of the trunk had various types of miniature sea shells carved into the polished wood along the edges and proceeding down along the sides, it was a simplistically grand design that boasted the same eloquence of all her possessions, now mingling with Sansa's. She stroked a long slender finger down the slip of her long silk robe casually folded atop the lid of the trunk where she had placed it the night before. Lifting the fine gold and crimson material into her grasp, she slowly engulfed herself in the thin robe that fell to her dainty ankles and moved her nimble fingers to the task of securing the sash loosely at her middle. A light breeze flowed freely into the chamber through the solid gold window panes, forcing her to feel an acute awareness of the perspiration still drying on her upper chest where the top of her robe split open down into the valley between her pert breasts. She stifled a shiver and the inclination to return to bed and her SheWolf's warmth. She had a schedule to keep to and the requirements on her time did not evaporate because of her personal wants, but that did not mean she couldn't integrate the two. Today would be an opportunity to get a sense of where public opinion lay, it wasn't overtly important but it would be useful for later contemplation, knowledge, after all, was a tool of her trade.

"An apology is the one thing I cannot ever foresee passing your lips, Cersei..." Sansa murmured thoughtfully.

Cersei's blonde head snapped up from the task of tying the two inch-thick sash of her robe into a loose knot, her shrewdly intelligent eyes flew to her lover as the redhead pointedly looked away from her with a tender smile brimmed with knowing on her face as she toyed with a corner of the large rectangular pillow the younger woman leaned back against.

To ward off the chill that had set in after The Queen had left their bed, Sansa had pulled the fine-textured and expensive bedsheets up to cover the gloriously mesmeric silhouette of her naked body, the top edge of the Lannister red bedding was folded and the plush softness was tucked beneath her pale arms. The perfect shape of Cersei's left eyebrow arched as she studied the free and teasing curve of her SheWolf's full pink lips, a pleasantly astounded smile soon found itself mirrored on her own face; so Sansa had faith in her abilities to release the cage door that held back those tender-hearted words restlessly rebelling against their seemingly unbreakable constraints. Her smile withered somewhat and she turned her head, glancing away from her cherished Paramour as she redeployed her attention to finish tying her robe's sash. The restriction on her was forty years strong, even with the greatest effort such a thing would not break easily, if ever.

"And Myrcella would hunt me down with Tommen on her heels if I fail to make an appearance today" Cersei looked up again to find Sansa wearing a radiant grin at the mention of the two Royal children, she recognised that look, maternal affection for the lively pair. Her SheWolf loved her cubs like her own, it was obvious to anyone who cared to look, to anyone who could actually _see_. Her chest began to hurt with an overwhelming feeling, a throbbing pang that almost had her pressing her hand to the achy sensation in an attempt to ease it, instead she traced her lover's sculpted features with her eyes and moved her elegant hands to rest lightly on her hips. She took a deep breath and exhaled silently.

"That is a certainty, darling, and I claim full responsibility for their tenacity" Cersei smirked.

She was suddenly struck with how true her words were, she dug her fingers into the flesh of her lean hips through the silk of her robe as she gazed back at Sansa, drinking in the sight of her SheWolf. Her two cubs were gentler than she ever was even at their age but she definitely saw pale shades of herself in them. Prominently in Myrcella, in the girl's fiery wilfulness. There was considerably less of her in Tommen, that was plain to see, but still his softness chimed in unison with something familiar buried deep within her and yet she found it almost entirely foreign; compassion. Jagged shards of similarity linked herself and Joffrey, they could both be unimaginably cruel, and upon occasion she sincerely savoured the suffering she could inflict on a whim, however she was never cruel absent a good reason, her disavowed son needed no such prompting.

When she wanted something she pursued that goal with single-minded determination, she manipulated with frightening precision, she methodically removed the obstacles standing in her way and she forcibly shaped events into an arrangement that satisfied her. One way or another she would find the key to her cage or else a way to break free without it. Even if it was just the once, exhaled on her final breath however many years in the future when she was on her deathbed, she would make her amorous confession to Sansa.

* * *

><p>The balmy breeze teased the ends of Cersei's long blonde hair, making the thick and glossy mane dance tamely in the wind as she confidently stalked through the wide streets of King's Landing at the heart of an excessive escort. Five hundred men would have been be fit enough escort for any Targaryen Queen or King, but she was not a Targaryen.<p>

Three thousand Lannister soldiers clad in their dark red armour and polished helms marched in a long rectangular column hollowed protectively around her, in a formation narrow enough to fit through the winding streets of her City. Some of Tywin Lannister's best trained men, assembled in such great numbers they could fend off a force thrice their size for a few hours, they were conditioned to fight down to the last man in the revered name of Lannister. At her Lord Father's behest they had been awaiting her when she had made to leave The Red Keep with Sansa and the children, a brazen symbol of her supreme authority and importance, and by extension the dominance of her House, as much as an escort for her.

The Gold Cloaks as well, all two thousand men, had been summoned to their posts around King's Landing upon receiving word that their Queen would be venturing out into the City for the first time since that despicable revolt in Flea Bottom. Cersei had never held much faith in the City Watch, but she was especially displeased with them after that day, when she had been forced to leave The Red Keep, in the middle of an uprising that resulted in the High Septon being torn to pieces by the commoners consumed in an animalistic rage directed at Joffrey, to seek out her children and her lover only to return sheathed from neck to toe in blood. Her own safety hadn't mattered to her, much to Sandor's horror, but she had nearly lost the three people she cherished the most and she vividly remembered the resulting weight of dread in her stomach and the vile taste of fear in the back of her mouth. The Gold Cloaks, those incompetent fools, had only arrived in time to see the her holding a frightened and injured Direwolf pup under her arm as she hastily ushered her equally traumatised family into The Red Keep and Sandor bringing up the rear with the savage who had attempted to rape Sansa slung over his massive shoulder like a sack of putrid grain. She would never allow a recurrence of that day to happen.

The late noonday sun shone brightly overhead, catching the multitude of aged stone buildings - the unimpressive dwellings of the general populace, the workshops of permanent traders with their wooden signs showing obvious symbols of their trades hanging above the simple doors, the vine-covered manses of lesser Lords visiting the Capital or merchants possessing enough wealth, gained through honest means or otherwise, to live in such estates with small moderately well tended gardens accessible from the streets – all of them were enveloped in the mild golden rays sweeping across the landscape like a great river washing away all the recent unpleasantness. The Great Sept of Baelor stood proudly, almost as impressive as The Red Keep itself in size and majesty, looming over the other lesser structures and spaced slightly apart from them, next to long line of truncated coast that dropped into the deep blue ocean. Even if there was someone in the Seven Kingdoms truly ignorant enough not to know the relevance of the Sept, the sheer size of the structure itself would be enough to proclaim it's importance, the vast shadow cast by the Sept besmirched a hundred of the smaller buildings, maybe more. The Red Keep however was a thousand times greater than The Sept of Baelor, it was larger, the construction was much more complex, her 'Eyes' discovered more hidden alcoves and concealed passages every day for her utilisation, but The Keep's size and magnificence was only rivalled by it's legendary prestige, it's never ending secrets and it's rotten corruption.

Hypocrisy was at every street corner and walkway in King's Landing, tainting the scent of fresh salty air billowing into the stone landscape from the ocean on rustling waves. Cersei could smell dishonesty falling off of the commoners, the more affluent were relatively well dressed while others were clad in a more garish attire, trying to gawk at her and her companions through the solid walls of broad soldiers while attempting to appear as though they were simply going about their daily business. She rolled her eyes scornfully as she continued to regally stalk down an unimportant street between neat rows of small, two floor, houses at a steady confident pace.

Over the deafeningly thunderous sounds of three thousand pairs of armour-plated boots pounding against the stone ground beneath them, the protesting squeaks of stacked wagons being pulled from destination to destination and the cries of gulls soaring about overhead, what she found more offensive than the repulsive scent of hypocrites was the blatant lies she could hear being spewed from the mouths of every plainly dressed herald she passed on every street corner. As was her intention, she was infallible now that she had made the truth of her relationship with Sansa public knowledge, she was vindicated of being wrongly accused of incestuous liaisons with her twin and giving life to three bastards but apparently none of her 'loyal' subjects living within the walls of the City had ever believed such nonsense. Behind her cold mask of indifference, Cersei viciously scowled to herself. Even now there were people quietly condemning her behind closed doors for bedding another woman but her power was secure. The sycophants she was surrounded by knew nothing of ethics or allegiance, they were double-tongued, her own sense of morality was questionable by most standards and by most people but at least she was consistent. She could quite happily rip out the prying eyes and duplicitous tongues from all five hundred thousand of the general populace for their insults and false apologies, she would enjoy the act immensely, but she knew such an abundance of bloody violence would deeply upset Sansa and her cubs. The peasants and vultures would never be forgiven for thinking the worst of her family, and she would not forget their derogatory slurs, but now, when all the recent chaos of war was lessening, it was not the time for settling personal vendettas. Now was the time for further consolidation, the exact policy she would employ when The Hound returned to the Capital with Robb and Catelyn Stark but she would not deal so lightly with Lords Frey and Bolton. She was shamelessly biased, of course, but that was her prerogative.

Encased between phalanxes of primed soldiers, with her Queensguard and absent both Jaime and Sandor forming a semi circle two paces behind her and her beloved companions, Cersei was suddenly distracted from her conniving thoughts by the feel of a warm slender hand slipping into her own as she walked down the Street of Flour where most bakers plied their trade in curt buildings with narrow tables assembled outside to display their freshly cooked wares, leaving the light breeze to softly carry a pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread and a variety of pies down the long street to entice custom from passers-by. She could hear Myrcella and Tommen's chattering animatedly amongst themselves, about everything and nothing in the way children do, as they strolled, their shoulders brushing together occasionally, along the white cobblestones a step in front of herself and Sansa. Her treasured cubs were absolutely ecstatic to be outside in the City, held apart from the regular bustle though they were by the walls of soldiers, she could tell from their wide smiles and bright eyes that they were enjoying the simplistic change immensely.

The slight hand clasped in her own squeezed her palm so gently she almost didn't register the touch, cocking her head to the side as she and her large company strode languidly down the busy street, the corner of Cersei's luscious mouth curled into an affectionate half smile as she idly admired the sun-bathed features of Sansa's exquisitely beautiful face, the clear shimmers of joy shinning back at her through pale wolf eyes made her full lips curl into a bigger smile. With her free hand she slowly guided Sansa's warm palm to the crook of her inner elbow, over the expensive Lannister red material of her highly fashionable dress, and covered the back of her lover's hand with her own palm, an intimate gesture in plain view of everyone glancing at them and an unneeded affirmation of the rumours bouncing from all corners of King's Landing. A delighted grin spread on Sansa's face, displaying perfect white teeth, as they steadily ambled together down the street, the intrusive pounding of their escort's armoured boots resounding from all directions. Sansa suddenly frowned, musing silently to herself, and the redhead's fingers tightened around her elbow like the younger woman feared she would fade on the breeze. She nearly growled in response, she was irritated to see the bright smile on her Paramour's face evaporate, but she suspected she knew the reason for it. She patiently waited for Sansa to speak and slowly began to draw little soothing circles on the back of her SheWolf's hand, clutching the inside of her elbow, with the pad of her thumb.

"Is this safe?" Sansa's light blue-grey eyes darted to her hand on The Queen's slender arm, suddenly fearing she had erred by reaching for her lover in public.

Cersei made a noise in the back of her throat, she had been expecting that particular question after their conversation the day before. She cast a glance around the walls of soldiers surrounding her and her family, the phalanxes were formed up six yards around them from either side, far enough away that over the sounds of their heavy boots hitting the cobblestones none of the men would overhear them talking. Her ruse was privileged knowledge for the people she trusted only.

"When you understand the thing, controlling it comes naturally. I understand people..." Cersei removed her hand from the back of Sansa's palm, her lover's hand remained touching her arm, she gestured outwardly at the crowds as they walked, a cynical smirk played at the corner of her mouth as she stared at her SheWolf.

"...They will never believe me capable of caring for anyone other than my children, never, no matter what they see to the contrary..." She shook her head slowly as she dropped her hand to her side "...This belief is mostly accurate. I never cared for any of my former lovers, they were a convenience to me, nothing more, and people will think the same of you. That belief will keep you safe from people who want to hurt me and it is inflated two-fold because you are a Stark and I am a Lannister, prominent members of two Houses with every reason to hate each other. To the Realm you are my victim, they think I am using you as a bed warmer to insult the memory of your father, or some such nonsense..." Cersei haughtily cast her intelligent eyes out among those she ruled, watching them like a lioness tracks her prey, analysing them like only a descendant of Lann the Clever, who swindled Casterly Rock from the Casterlys using nothing but his wits, could.

"...This congregation of hypocrites feel sympathy for you, Sansa, in their eyes you are my possession, the spoils of war being openly flaunted" She drawled.

"A distorted appearance that hides reality" The younger woman sidled closer to her side as they, and their company, meandered through the streets without an iron clad destination in mind, the redhead dropped her hand away from her elbow and she subsequently snaked her arm around Sansa's slender waist possessively. Her SheWolf blushed slightly and smiled, leaning closer to her.

"Indeed..." Cersei purred her agreement as her hand came to rest on her Paramour's hip. She smiled as she looked ahead to Myrcella and Tommen as they laughed together at some unheard jest. She was happy that the they were happy, and pleased to known that the vultures staring at her thought it was arrogant pleasure and not true contentment she felt.

"...Of course, there will come a day when someone will ask themselves if that is all true, why you are still my Paramour after so long, that is why false rumours of 'other' concubines must be widespread, to maintain the ruse as we discussed." Cersei tightened her arm around Sansa's waist, her lover cuddled into her side as the sun bared down on them from above, over the rooftops of the buildings they passed.

"I wonder what my Mother will believe?" Sansa nibbled on her lower lip slowly and sighed heavily. Her lover was developing her Mother's wisdom, her SheWolf knew the reunion with her family would be confrontational just as Sansa knew full well and trusted that she wouldn't punish the other Stark's, severely.

"Catelyn is a smart woman..." Cersei murmured softly, knowing full well that Robb Stark was a stubborn dunce and the quickest most direct path to a truce with her Paramour's House would lay in reasoning with the Northern matriarch, after Sandor had secured their safety in her name.

Sansa nodded, her breathing hitched slightly with yearning for her family, a longing she understood all too well, they were both missing family. She tilted her head, musing where Jaime was in the Kingdoms now that he was free from his captors and pondering about the progress Sandor and his expeditionary force had made on their journey to The Twins. She had received word that the marriage between Edmure Tully and one of the numerous Frey girls would take place by early evening this very day. Cersei rolled her eyes scornfully, Robb Stark was a fool for thinking his desperate attempt at forging an alliance against her House would be successful after he refuted his word to Walder Frey. The Wolves were fortunate she had a vested interest in their longevity.

"...For all her hatred of me and mine, she loves you more. You are happy here with me and the children, yes?" It was a redundant question and they both knew it.

"Yes, of course" Sansa confirmed immediately. Cersei tightened her arm around the redhead's supple waist and squeezed her Paramour's hip as they turned onto another residential street when she felt her younger lover's head come to rest on her shoulder trustingly.

"Happiness is the only thing a Mother wants for her children, yours will come to see the truth or she will accept what she believes is a lie, for you. Regardless we shall soon move on from all this unpleasantness." She didn't plan on giving Robb and Catelyn Stark much choice to do anything else. She smiled warmly at the optimism her words had sparked to life in Sansa's pale wolf eyes.

* * *

><p>As the sun set on the horizon outside of the huge gold paned window behind her, turning the sky a swirling mixture of purple, pink, blue and light grey, a heated and vile curse that would make The Mountain blush in shame, burst free from Cersei's mouth as she carefully examined the four aged but fastidiously preserved tomes she had found sitting side by side with a perfect inch separating the spines on the surface of her large polished oak desk when she had returned to her shared chambers just moments before. She had already sent Myrcella and Tommen back to their own rooms in the company of their cautiously selected attendants and guards to bathe before dinner. The Prince had conceded to her will with a smile and brief embrace before hurrying through the halls to his chambers. Her Heiress, on the other hand, had insisted that she be allowed to groom and feed Duchess before being accompanied not by her Handmaids but by Sansa to her rooms to bathe.<p>

The Queen nearly smiled lovingly at the fresh memory until her attention was once more focused on the books bound in worn black leather in front of her, she sank into her high-backed, elaborately carved chair and rested her elegant palms flat on the edge of her grand desk. She knew exactly who had placed the books there so precisely for her discovery. Only one person in the Seven Kingdoms had the right to enter her luxurious furnished chambers while she was absent from them and so pass unhindered by the guards she had stationed outside the door, only one person had the steely nerve to breech her Den that she now shared with her SheWolf. Tywin Lannister. That he had come into her chambers without invitation didn't truly bother her, he was the one person she couldn't control even if she did desire to, what irritated her most was the newest conundrum her Lord Father had presented her with. She rubbed her temples as she turned inwardly into the vast halls of her knowledge.

The four tomes pertained to Dragons and had been read by exceptionally few people. She knew a little about their context but even she had not read them.

_Blood and Fire _was a fragmentary and generalised study of Dragons written by an anonymous author, supposedly the only surviving copy in existence was locked away in the vaults beneath the Citadel, the Maester's Headquarters in Oldtown in The Reach. She had no way of knowing if her Father had ordered its excavation or if the book in front of her was part of some secret collection the Head of her House hoarded in an undisclosed location. She wouldn't be surprised either way. Her shrewd eyes turned to the second thick tome on her desk.

_Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History _by Septon Barth. Cersei took a breath, recalling from her studies that Septon Barth had been The Hand of the King of Jaehaerys Targaryen I and supposedly a Sorcerer. Many copies of this book were burned during the reign of Baelor I and even pieces of the tome were now extremely difficult to locate. She tilted her head and sighed heavily, she was bewildered as to why her Father had given these books to her but still she turned her attention to the remaining two tomes and scanned them with equal scrupulosity. She would expose the answer.

The third book, the narrowest, was entitled, _The Death of Dragons, _but she couldn't locate an author either on the spine of the book or printed on the opening pages as she flipped open the cover and flicked through the contents. She closed the book with a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes after finding the book recorded the names of all the last Targaryen Dragons during the reign of King Aegon Dragonbane and in some cases, listed the cause of the beast's death. Cersei pursed her lips, it was commonly thought across Westeros and Essos that only something as omnipotent as Nature itself could kill the magical beasts, but this book and it's information proved otherwise.

"By the Gods..." She whispered.

Her jaw slackened somewhat and her eyes widened as she suddenly realised the value of the book she cradled between her hands now that the Targaryen girl was on the move across the Narrow Sea. It required long moments for her to suppress the speculations abruptly running amok amongst her thoughts and to finally survey the final tome on her desk. She ran a forefinger over the cover.

_Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons, _was written by Maester Thomax. Cersei leaned back in her high-backed chair and draped her hands over the armrests as she stared over the expanse of her chambers at the closed oak door. As far as she had been aware the only copy of this book had last thought to be located in the library of Castle Black. A frown tugged her brows downward, The Brothers of the Night's Watch valued and exploited their independence from the Realms of Men far too much to simply hand something this priceless over to even someone such as Tywin Lannister. Cersei scowled to herself, finally deciding that it wasn't as important to know where her Father had gotten the books as it was to figure out why he had given these rare tomes to her. She would solve the riddle of the former at a later time.

She rose up out of her chair and rapidly began to pace the length of the chamber, feeling the change in textures between the cold marble flooring and the plush furs as she passed over them, over and over, she walked from her desk to the door, in silent contemplation. Her hands came to rest on her hips as she paced.

Daenerys Targaryen would return to the shores of Westeros one day with her three Dragons and her army of Unsullied. The girl might possess the ability to bond with Dragons but Daenerys Targaryen did not understand the beasts, Cersei had learned from her 'Eyes' embedded inside the girl's inner-circle. A deeper knowledge of Dragons, their strengths and weaknesses, would provide an advantage when that day arrived and so she would immerse herself in study of the books until she could recite them word for word. But not before she had collected Stannis Baratheon's repulsive head and watched every Lord in her Kingdoms bend the knee at her Coronation, when she was finished sinking her fangs into their throats, Daenerys Targaryen would find herself staring at Seven utterly interlinked Armies. Each and every solider of whichever House they were sworn to ready and willing to 'greet' the long lost Targaryen Princess on behalf of The Lannister Queen they would never disobey again. She was very interested to see how three Dragons and their Mother would measure up against her Wits, especially now that she had access to knowledge that most Targaryen's had never laid eyes on, knowledge that would make the once daunting task of killing those Dragons substantially easier. As the days went on the future became more and more hers to dictate.

But why had her Father passed on this knowledge on to her?. He didn't trust her, he said so often enough, and the man certainly didn't feel paternal affection. So why was he assisting her?, in his own way, the threat to the family was ended and there no need for interference from the Head of her House. Why would he give her something so crucial to secure their continued safety and ascendency in the years to come?.

Cersei froze partway between her desk and the door. She cast her mind back to the day before in her Lord Hand's chambers when she had demanded that he bring Arya Stark to King's Landing, she had also asked him plainly if he finally accepted that she was his Legacy, not Jaime. He had not answered her and she had not expected differently. It was known that she would be the one to succeed her Father as the Head of House Lannister, she would take Casterly Rock and rule its branching Houses as their Queen and Liege-Lady, but her Father despised the notion and was determined to have Jaime released from his Oath as a Queensguard so he could inherit. A fate her twin didn't desire.

Giving her the books without demanding and receiving payment was an ineffective use of considerable assets, sacrilege to a Lannister, much less _The_ Lannister. He wasn't bribing her to dismiss Jaime from his duty.

She clamped down on the thought that perhaps her Father had accepted her as his Heir, she would use the books as a means to further their Legacy by destroying House Targaryen but it was foolishness to think Tywin Lannister deemed her a worthy Successor. It was a fact of life, no one and nothing would meet her Father's approval.

She cursed in impotent frustration and approached her wide crimson padded chaise nearby the grand marble hearth that was taller than she, she elegantly parched herself on the edge of the chaise and stared into the empty fireplace, it wasn't Winter quite yet and therefore there was no need to stock the deep hearth with wood and kindling. She couldn't fathom why her Lord Hand had given the books to her and as the moments drew on, her disappointment that she was failing to solve his riddle turned to anger so deep set that she was soon trembling on the chaise.

Cersei gritted her teeth and glared into the hearth, rage flooded her veins with every beat of her heart. She hated that her Father could make her feel so inadequate with something so simple as giving her what some might see as a gift. She dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes, taking deep breathes, struggling to tame the flickering flames of hatred and suspicion, she needed to dissect the conundrum of the books to understand what enciphered warning her Father had sent her and she couldn't think clearly with a haze of rage clouding her vision.

She lifted her head up from her hands, her eyes glowed in her dim chambers like cat's-eyes as she searched for something to take out her rage upon. Her attention snagged on the seashell Sansa had gifted her with just days before, she had placed the orange and red shell on the edge of the mantelpiece above the towering hearth. The force of Cersei's hard glare was enough to cut through stone like a knife through butter but her eyes softened almost instantaneously when they settled on the Lion's Paw shell peaking cautiously over the edge of the marble shelf. The welcomed thought of Sansa, the memories of their time together, calmed her and gave her clarity enough to focus.

Standing up, she carefully retrieved the fragile shell from the mantelpiece and rearranged herself on the chaise. Cradling the shell in her lap, she smiled tenderly as she ran her forefinger over it's smoothly curved face. She wasn't overtly surprised when she detected a soft knock at the entrance to her rooms and the subtle click of the door being pushed open, but knowing that Sansa couldn't possibly have coaxed lively Myrcella into a bath and through the tedium of dressing for dinner, collected Tommen from his chambers and returned to her so swiftly, she expertly masked her smile behind an expression of pure contempt and looked up from the shell in her hand, ready to confront the meek servants, presumably coming into her room to light the numerous candelabra as the sun set, with her signature iciness.

Her constructed mask fell away into openness as she gazed at the partly open door and the dishevelled visitant, who, despite the uncomely darkly coloured rags hanging loosely on his tall body and his obvious fatigue, carried himself with the posture of a confident noble as he quietly stepped into her chambers and closed the door behind him.

It couldn't be, and yet it was, she would have smiled but shock held her entire body, including her facial muscles, utterly immobile. Even if she could, she feared that if she moved the unshaven man lingering across the chamber would prove to be nothing more than an illusion.

"Cersei..." Jaime whispered weakly.

She was elated to hear his voice after so many long months, to see him alive and safely returned to her. Cersei's lips parted to beckon her younger brother, by minutes, forward when her eyes settled on his muscular arm, held across his broad chest in a makeshift sling. A Lioness's furious roar resounded in her head and heart when she realised that his hand, her twin's prized sword hand, had been severed.

Her contentment vanished.

**TBC. . .**

**AN: So I am thinking about a Sequel, actually the idea is pestering me just like the idea for 'Cersei's SheWolf' pestered me which is to say I'm already mentally drafting it. It will only be a short and completely AU follow-up to this story but it means that you don't have to worry about me abandoning this Fic, as if there was any chance of that anyway considering I only post a story if I plan on finishing it, and you can't write the second installation of a series if you don't finish the first part now can you?. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Game of Thrones or anything associated with the show or books.

**AN: I'm so sorry to have kept you all waiting, you all know I have a pretty hectic schedule at the best of times but add writers block to it and well...Anyway, this chapter revolves solely around Cersei and Jaime, but I will make up for the lack of Cersei/Sansa in the next chapter, I promise. Now to all my readers wanting to see some M rated stuff, I don't plan on changing the rating of this particular story, as it is not that far off from being finished, but I have been thinking about writing a ONESHOT from Sansa's POV about Cersei and Sansa's first night together. I have no idea when I'll get the time to write it, but if you guys are interested in the idea I'll put it high up on my list of things to do.**

**Chapter Fifteen.**

The White Sword Tower is a four tiered, slender structure built into a converging angle of The Red Keep's soaring outer walls, overlooking Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea beyond. The thunderous sounds of roaring ocean waves crashing against The Red Keep's strong stone walls caressed the delicate shells of Cersei's ears as she roughly shoved open the heavy, seven and a half foot tall, plain oak, arched door to the White Sword Tower, therein existed the living quarters and meeting place of her sworn Queensguard.

The hour was early, so early that the languidly stirring sun had yet to fully peek over the lazily brightening horizon. The coming sunrise turned the darkness of the receding night sky into mingling shades of light purple, pale pink and soft red, leaving all of King's Landing saturated in a dull dark grey light as the full magnificence of a new dawn slowly approached. The salty ocean breeze billowing through the City's maze of stone buildings and cobblestone streets, just now starting to stir with drowsy-eyed merchants readying for a day's trading by stacking their varying wares upon worn wooden stands outside their workshops, and The Red Keep's intricate labyrinth of wide walkways, opulent antechambers and warren of elaborate halls, beginning to bustle with servants frantically rushing about to prepare for the soon-to-be rousing Nobles, was cold enough that The Lannister Lioness had chosen to wear her favoured downy fur coat over her highly stylish silken red dress. The heavy and soft fur coat had a high collar that rose halfway up the elegant column of her slender neck and flowed down over the alluring length of Cersei's willowy body to end at her delicate ankles, an inch and a half thick dark brown leather belt with a gleaming gilded buckle held the two lapels of the heavy coat closed at her svelte waist.

She remembered well the day she had received the fur coat. The garment was fashioned from the thick tawny coloured pelt of a particularly ferocious and bloodthirsty Lion that had terrorised the Westerlands for a full eighteen months, claiming the lives of three dozen of his highly skilled would-be slayers and over two hundred peasants before Jaime, seemingly on a whim and without informing either herself or their Lord Father of his plans, had rode out to their ancestral home whereupon her Twin had battled and killed the fearsome beast inside his own Den. Jaime had presented her with the majestic fur coat on their twentieth Name Day at the height of an exalted celebration in her honour, hosted in the befittingly ornamented Throne room attended by all the Greater and Lesser Houses of Westeros. Later that same night after she had finished preparing for bed, she had called Jaime in from his guard post outside her bedchambers and she had rigorously questioned her beloved brother's sanity and brutally berated him for hunting such a dangerous beast, alone, having conducted minimal preparation and without the possibility of aid should he find himself in need of armed assistance. Her younger Twin had smirked at her, saying that it was a very fitting gift, even if the dreaded Lion had failed to match her own chilling ferocity.

She recalled clearly the pride shining in Jaime's eyes that day, so many years ago, it was not that of a conceited man like so many frequently accused. Her brother had been proud to be the man who destroyed the beast that had terrorised their venerable family's Seat of Power, whose brutal massacres in the dead of night had their common subjects and Vassal Houses daring to question the power and even the competency of House Lannister in hushed whispers behind closed doors. Naturally they had all, faithless peasant and Vassal Houses alike, been lastingly punished accordingly for doubting Lannister supremacy, her venerable Lord Father had swiftly seen to that.

Jaime had fortified their family's standing, in his way, and she wished today, by wearing the Lion's fur coat, to remind him of that feeling of pride. To show him that he had not changed in her eyes, their reunion the night before had been short but she knew that more than anything, he feared her perception of him changing, diminishing.

The previous evening upon his return to her, though she had desired nothing more than to keep her brother close after such a painfully prolonged separation, Cersei had sent Jaime away from her chambers to his own room in the White Sword Tower before Sansa and her cub's return. She had done so with the intention of avoiding her road-weary brother becoming overwhelmed by what would have undoubtedly been an overly boisterous welcoming from Myrcella and Tommen, and potentially her curious children's innocent questions about Jaime's extensive injury and haggard appearance. Jaime had gratefully accepted her decision to hold off on the anticipated reunion for a night with only a tired nod of his head and a small yet warm smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Cersei did not require her brother to tell her that the devastating loss of his prized sword-hand was a sensitive subject, he was a born warrior, she couldn't begin to imagine his internal torment.

They had only spoken briefly before Jaime had taken his leave, too briefly to have discussed all that has transpired during their time apart, but she had sensed from their overly short conversation that the memory of having his hand crudely cut from his body and then being forced to have more flesh, turned septic, cut from the remains of the limb was still very, very raw in his mind.

Her children were highly intelligent and inquisitive, had Jaime remained to dine with them the night before, Myrcella and Tommen may have sensed their Uncle's barely disguised anguish, like she had, and refrained from asking him about it but if they had, they would have approached their Uncle's bloodcurdling experience with their typical bluntness when asking something of one they trusted implicitly, she had only taught her cubs to be guarded and reserved with outsiders. So soon after the pivotally shattering event with the horrific memory still plaguing Jaime's mind, any inadvertently tactless inquisition would have been like taking a white hot fire iron to an abscessed wound oozing with infection and such excruciating agony often made for a harsh tongue that hurled harmful words one did not mean in response.

She was wise enough to appreciate that in all likelihood Jaime probably would not have reacted so disastrously to questioning, especially to sweet Myrcella and innocent Tommen's questioning, however she had still wished to allot her beloved brother time enough to rest after his long journey home and to mentally prepare himself for the Prince and Princess's spirited personalities and their curious inquiries, should they be issued, before allowing the three Lannisters she cared most about to lay eyes on each other once again. That Jaime had accepted her decision, to take his leave before her children had caught sight of him, without complaint nor sardonic jest only confirmed that he was in perfect accord with her judgement. As he so often was.

Overhead beneath the brightening morning sky, a gull settled atop the stone spire of the White Sword Tower, the large bird tilted back it's small white-feathered head, parted its dark yellow beak and let out a piercingly loud undulating cry that carried throughout Blackwater Bay. The bird's sharp prolonged cry, punctuated abruptly by the sounds of dark turbulent waves breaking violently and crashing against the The Red Keep's walls, resounded in Cersei's ears as she purposefully stalked through the wide arched doorway into the White Sword Tower.

The icy howling wind forcefully preceded her regal entrance into a circular chamber, appropriately named The Round Room, the stone walls were whitewashed and adorned with white woollen tapestries, between each tapestry mounted on the wall was a cast iron bracket each holding lit torches, their flickering orange flames illuminated every inch of the circular chamber. The Round Room formed the entire first floor of The White Sword Tower, it was here the sworn brotherhood held all their meets, and at the centre of the circular whitewashed stone chamber was a large white table, made of weirwood and carved into the shape of a shield attended by seven chairs. Within the undercroft, a storeroom located through a plain oak side-door to the right side of The Round Room, dwelt arms and armour, it was also where The Book Of Brothers was kept.

Two subservient paces behind The Lannister Lioness, protectively flanking her on either side, her Queensguards Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Loras Tyrell, both clad in their heavy gold plate armour, gleaming helms and long white capes with lethally sharp swords sheathed at their waists, timidly followed her into The Round Room. Both warriors kept their eyes nervously trained on the whitewashed floor. The cold morning wind forcibly wafting through The Round Room, and howling clamorously within the circular chamber, died abruptly when Ser Arys pushed the tall arched door to the Tower closed behind both himself and Ser Loras.

The clipped sounds of The Queen's light footsteps cut loudly through the dense silence of The Round Room as she gracefully strode around the white, shield-shaped, weirwood table, heading toward the discreet winding stairwell that wrapped around the White Sword Tower. Majestically sweeping into the stone stairwell, she was confronted by countless direly steep steps two and a half paces wide. With a grim set to her luscious red mouth, Cersei began to agilely climb the winding stairwell, a hard and cold glint in her jade coloured eyes. She could hear Ser Arys and Ser Loras trailing anxiously on her heels, like a pair of terrified mice fearful of attracting the attention of a starving cat, they hardly dared to breathe too heavily lest they draw her justified ire. A rare show of intelligence on their part, The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms thought, as an infuriated lioness roared in her ears and barely controlled rage simmered deep in her vicious heart. News of Jaime's ordeal had already circulated The Red Keep, originating from the lips of one servant or another who had seen her brother walking the halls last night. Similarly the disdainful and half-witted 'Vultures' already knew that one false move around The Lannister Lioness would result in their blood coating her claws.

Cersei's magnolia pale, long, slender fingers curled into tightly coiled yet elegant fists at her sides, her short and sharp nails cut into her soft palms as she quickened her pace. The direly steep stairs forced her to draw her knees up high, causing the lean muscles in her tone thighs to ache pleasantly, a sensation she savoured. A momentarily suppressed need for bloody vengeance boiled deep in her heart, the blazing fire burning just beneath the surface of her pale skin spurred her on at such a brisk gait that Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Loras Tyrell were forced to lunge up the steep stairs two at a time to remain close on her heels. The sounds of footfalls, hers several octaves lighter than that of her Queensguards, echoed sharply up the staircase. Ascending the steep stairs at such a quick pace was truly tiring, but she had considerable stamina, she maintained her enviable regal composure whereas Ser Arys and Ser Loras, clad in their hefty gold plate armour, were soon perspiring and panting with exertion as they struggled to keep up with her. She scowled darkly to herself, the sounds of her guard's breathing was grating on her irritated nerves.

The winding stone stairway, adequately illuminated by the flickering orange flames falling from burning torches mounted in iron brackets upon the curved walls at regular intervals, soon carried her and her flagging Queensguards beyond the small landing and closed, arched side-door, carved from solid oak, that lead into the second floor of the narrow four tiered Tower. The second and third floors of The White Sword Tower held the spare sleeping cells of the six sworn brothers of her Queensguards, it was on the topmost floor of the Tower where the Lord Commander's apartments were located.

Her lungs had begun to burn ever so slightly with exertion when she finally reached the peak of the stairwell, but she was by no means out of breath. The hundreds of steep stairs melded into a four metre long but very narrow stone landing that extended toward a wide-set arched door adorned with a polished bronze doorhandle. On either side of the arched doorway, strategically mounted on the walls in cast iron brackets, yet more torches burned brightly. When the dawn arrived in it's fullest, the gossipmongering servants would see to it that the lit reed cane torches were extinguished and replaced throughout The Red Keep.

Stoic-faced despite the hatred churning in her gut, Cersei crossed the stone landing and gripped the gleaming bronze doorhandle, her solid gold signet ring, it's square face emblazoned with the Sigil of her Noble House, glimmered brightly in the torch light. She flung open the door and swept into her beloved brother's rooms while red-cheeked Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Loras Tyrell took up position outside the chamber, flanking the door on either side.

As with his Sworn brother's sleeping cells, Jaime's rooms were bare however the Lord Commander's chamber was very spacious. The furnishings were overly simple in design, practicalities all; a large four poster bed adorned with a pristine white canopy and white silk bedsheets, a simple white silk padded chaise that could only seat two people at a time, a plainly crafted bookcase, a desk and bedside table all made of weirwood, did nothing to diminish the sheer spaciousness of the room.

Across the circular chamber silhouetted in the mellow morning light spilling in through the wall-to-wall, floor-to-floor windows granting a view of the Bay, and facing her as she lingered in front of the arched door, Jaime sat behind his large weirwood desk in a high-backed chair with an irritated scowl etched into the contours of his handsome face.

Cersei almost smiled a little at the sight of her beloved Twin, regardless of the changes in his appearance, it warmed her jaded heart to see Jaime back where he belonged. His strong jaw was now clean-shaven and at some point during the night or even this very morning he had cut his golden blonde hair short, much shorter than his hair had been before his capture. Jaime was thinner but his tall frame was still muscular. His eyes lacked their usual spark and his lips were bare of his signature sardonic smirk.

The urge to smile faded and the anger simmering in her heart ignited, turning her vision blood red, when she realised Jaime would have been forced to have a servant assist him shave and trim his hair. It was common practice for Lords to have their servants wield the blade when they required grooming, but Jaime had never allowed any servant so close to his exposed throat with a knife. Her beloved Twin would have greatly despised every moment spent in so vulnerable a position and he would have hated being so helplessly reliant on another for so simple an act. Rage became an incessant pounding inside her skull, her elegant fingers curled into fists at her sides, her sharp nails left deep crescent-shaped marks in her palm, as she fought to contain the blazing inferno burning in her blood.

Her flesh prickled, as though there was a set of claws kneading her skin from the inside. How she longed for revenge against those responsible for her litter-mate's suffering, and she would have it. Roose Bolton and his man, Locke, would know more agony than that proffered in all the Seven Hells when Sandor dragged them before her in irons. Soon, very soon. The prospect served to quieten the furious Lioness roaring in her ears, for the moment.

Across the chamber, Jaime stared at her with weary green eyes as, with nimble fingers, she rapidly unfastened the brown leather belt holding the two lapels of her coat together and elegantly shrugged out of her Lion's fur coat, she draped the heavy tawny coloured garment over the back of the padded white silk chaise. Jaime's attention snagged on the discarded coat. Suddenly he no longer seemed aware of Master Qyburn sitting beside him behind his desk, or her as she commandingly swept further into the spacious room. She watched with her typically sharp and incisive stare as the Lord Commander's eyes glazed over, intuition told her that Jaime was remembering the day he had hunted the beast that provided the fur for her coat, just as she had intended by wearing it.

Her brother had never been a student of politics, that was her domain. Jaime did not like the deceptive subtly and cruel brutality involved when playing the Game of Thrones, he was much too honourable for all that, though he would never admit it or let it become common knowledge. However Jaime was by no means ignorant, far from it. He was a Lannister, and she knew from the look upon his face that he had found her subtle message; her perception of him had not altered in the slightest, and he need never fear that fact changing.

She smirked slightly at the sudden, potent burst of warmth in her younger Twin's eyes and the shadow of a loving smile playing in the corner of his mouth. The changes in his facial expression were so discreet that she doubted anyone other than herself would have noticed them.

"Your Grace" Master Qyburn rose from his low-backed chair and inclined his head respectfully to her.

She turned the full force of her cold, penetrating gaze onto the man who had accompanied her brother to King's Landing. She waited until Qyburn shifted on the balls of his feet, obviously uncomfortable beneath the force of her piercing stare, her mouth tilted into her signature icy smirk, before she waved her elegant hand dismissively, wordlessly indicating that he should return to his present task. She purposefully prowled toward the weirwood desk as Master Qyburn returned to his low backed chair, she intently watched both men opposite her.

"Please extend your arm, My Lord" Qyburn politely requested, keeping his attention focused on Jaime.

Cersei seized the glass decanter of red wine sitting on the edge of Jaime's desk, she also took hold of one of the simple wine glasses sitting next to the decanter, she poured herself a glass of wine. From the vibrant scent of fruit and complementary spices, she identified the potent crimson liquid as both her and Jaime's favourite red wine. She took a small sip of the intoxicating beverage, failing to really appreciate the sudden rupture of rich flavour in her mouth as she watched her Twin lower his head, as if in shame, and stiffly present the stump of his arm to Qyburn. She began to pace back and forth in front of Jaime's desk, like a caged lioness, she was far too agitated and her lean muscles were too tense, to take the chair opposite her brother and Master Qyburn.

The long sleeve of Jaime's sky blue shirt was pushed up to his elbow, Cersei took a larger sip of wine while running her intense hawk-gaze along her brother's bared forearm, she felt a painful pang in her chest as for the second time she noted that, in order to save the majority of the arm from infection, Qyburn had had to remove the entire wrist joint. Her oval-shaped jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. She was going to personally flay Roose Bolton alive, then she was going to tear the skin from Locke's back before publicly boiling in him in molten oil. Lastly, she would mount their foul heads on The Traitor's Walk to rot in the sun. She would have them screaming apologies to her younger brother.

Qyburn picked up a brown leather wrap from the surface of Jaime's desk, carefully he slipped the leather wrap onto the severed limp of Jaime's arm. It was to protect the skin from chaffing and blistering. Qyburn then took hold of the solid gold hand laying on the desk. Cersei drank more of her wine and continued to pace rapidly.

"Truly excellent craftsmanship, My Lord" Master Qyburn admired absentmindedly.

The sun streaming in through the wide windows behind Jaime's desk made the gold hand gleam and shimmer proudly. The breeze wafting into the circular chamber had the gossamer lengths of white drapes, hanging from the ceiling on iron hooks and brushing the floor, dancing lazily.

"Well if you like it so much Qyburn, you're more than welcome to chop off your own hand and use it yourself" Jaime drawled sarcastically with a wry smirk aimed at the other man. Only she, his Twin, could detect the layer of torment hidden beneath his barbed sardonic quip. She felt heartsick, thinking about his inner turmoil.

"Don't be an ingrate Jaime, I spent all night getting every detail just right" Cersei told him, wishing to draw his thoughts away from his own anguish, and she excelled at the art of manipulation. Jaime's eyes latched on to her. Qyburn remained quiet as he firmly inserted the stump of Jaime's arm, protectively covered with the leather wrap into the gold hand's orifice. His eyes locked on hers, Jaime grimaced and gritted his teeth in response. From the swift dilation of his pupils, she deduced that Jaime's severed limb must be extremely sore. She would secure him something to lessen his physical discomfort.

"All night?" Jaime bit out begin still gritted teeth. He exhaled a sharp breath while Qyburn ensured the gold hand was firmly in place.

"All night." Cersei confirmed, finishing her wine in single gulp.

After eating very little at dinner with her SheWolf and her cubs, The Queen had put her children to bed herself before returning to her lover in _their _bedchamber. She could still see the sickened look of horror on Sansa's exquisitely beautiful face when she had explained the circumstances of her younger brother's return. Knowing she would likely be gone for most of the night, she had stolen a passionate kiss from the redhead and told Sansa not to wait up for her return. She had then set off into the City in the company of her Queensguards, to the finest goldsmith available at King's Landing, better could be found at Casterly Rock but time had been of the essence. When the gold hand had been moulded and the gold allowed to cool, she'd had the goldsmith package it within a honey-coloured oak box inlaid with crimson velvet, which, upon returning to The Red Keep she had ordered her cretin of a cousin, Lancel, to deliver the packaged gold hand to The White Sword Tower ahead of herself. She had made a brief detour, to collect any and all letters that had arrived for her during the night; there were three missives tucked away in the pocket of her fur coat, one bore the Sigil of House Clegane, the other House Greyjoy, the last was unmarked.

Cersei poured herself another glass of wine. Suddenly she found herself wondering how Sansa had slept without her, last night was the first time they had not shared a bed since she had taken the younger woman as her lover. She sipped at her wine, knowing that if she had been in Sansa's place, she would not have been able to sleep absent the warmth of her mate seeping into her nor the feel of her SheWolf's tempting body tucked into her side.

The sensitive nape of her neck tingled, alerting her that she was being observed. She met her brother's green eyes with her own jade coloured irises. As Twins they shared a unique bond, communication between them often did not require any spoken words. When the 'Vultures' caught sight of Jaime's gold hand, they would all foolishly assume that she'd had the artifice crafted out a sense of revulsion for her brother's new deformity. She scoffed to herself, the 'Vultures' could not be further from the truth. Expressing her emotions did not come naturally to her, save for when she was with her cubs. Even with Sansa her feelings, no matter how powerful, refused to take vocal form. But even if she had sympathetic words and tender embraces to give him, Jaime would have rejected her pity, he always strived to earn her approval and respect, even when they were young children at Casterly Rock, it was always her Jaime sought to impress, never their Father or anyone else. The gold hand was a physical manifestation of her compassion for Jaime's ordeal and a silent vow that his loss would be avenged tenfold.

"A hook would be more practical" Jaime commented wryly. The look in his eye told her that he sensed the true purpose of his gold hand. Cersei smirked and drained her glass of wine.

"Then use it as a bloody cudgel, it is heavy enough" She said. Jaime grinned slowly, baring his white teeth. She revelled in her victory, she had drawn him away from his inner turmoil, for the moment.

"How does it feel, My Lord?" Master Qyburn asked, tucking his hands together in his lap.

Jaime twisted his head to stare at the other man. The Lord Commander of her Queensguard lifted his arm, resting his bent elbow on the surface of his desk and experimentally shifted his forearm left to right. Jaime made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. Qyburn nodded stiffly, before he rose up out his chair and walked around the desk.

As he came toward her, Qyburn inclined his head to her, "Your Grace."

"Master Qyburn...It is Master, not Maester, is it not" Cersei cocked an eyebrow. It was not a question. The disgraced former Maester had only been in her City for a half a day, but in that time he had already sworn allegiance to her House and she had already gathered much information regarding his censured 'experiments'.

"Indeed, Your Grace" Qyburn nodded, not a trace of shame in his eyes, which he kept respectfully averted. She might very well find a use for Qyburn. If and when that usefulness ran out, she would simply be rid of him.

"You may go" Cersei informed Master Qyburn in a glacial tone. Jaime awkwardly waved his gold hand, attempting to appear mocking, as Qyburn quietly slipped from the chamber. Cersei poured herself a third glass of wine. Her Twin watched her graceful movements closely, his blonde brows furrowed.

"Care to explain why you are squinting at me?" Cersei asked, turning on her heel, she walked to the white silk padded chaise.

Jaime leaned back in his chair behind his desk. She noted that through the window behind him, she could now see the morning sun was now firmly rooted in the deep blue sky. She was suddenly struck by how tired she actually was, having risen early the day before and remained awake through the night, her eyes seemed dry and her eyelids felt heavy.

"I am trying to decide whether or not the rumours are entirely true, or if you have some grand design at work" He explained.

"The Seven Kingdoms are a cesspool of rumours, to which do you refer?" She crossed her long, supple legs at the knee.

"Those of the Stark girl, of you desecrating the memory of Ned Stark by using his daughter for your amusement and pleasure. But I saw the look on your face just now, it is one I have never seen before, at least not on you, I can only assume your thoughts were of her. Which makes me think these rumours have neither truth to them nor your design"

She swallowed a large mouthful of wine, resting the bottom of the simple glass on her knee, "Her Father's execution saw to it that she is a child no longer. I desired her body instantly, but I never thought..." She felt a hand seized her throat, squeezing, choking her. She was in the safety of her trusted litter-mate's presence, they could tell each other anything and other would simply listen, and she still could not force the truth of her emotions, of their depth, for her SheWolf passed her sinfully red lips. She heaved a heavy sigh. A knowing glint came to life in Jaime's green eyes.

"The rumours are in part my design, as long as those simpering fools think she is nothing more than my..." She knew what people thought, she had made them think it, but she could not refer to her mate as a...

"Whore" Jaime supplied. Cersei's eyes hurled cold fire at him. He raised his hands, brokering peace, his gold hand shimmering the sunlight filtering into his chamber. Her Twin grinned smugly and she scowled back at him across the chamber, she had known he would send her such a grin when he learned she was...in love.

"She will be safe from harm"

"Will she?. What of Father?. I cannot imagine he was pleased when he learned of your preferences" Jaime's forehead creased with worry. He leaned forward in his chair, urgent for her to tell him that all was well.

She smiled, knowing without a single doubt that even without his prized sword-hand her brother would have done battle with their Father to preserve her right to be with whom she chose. She could still remember Jaime's fury when Tywin Lannister announced her betrothal to Robert Baratheon, in particular, the heated string of profanities Jaime had launched at their Father across the dining table at Casterly Rock.

"Father already knew. He has always known" Cersei said, finishing her wine in a single gulp, she placed the glass on the white-washed floor at her feet and leaned back into the softness of the chaise. She could see Jaime's eyes fly wide and anger seep into them as his strong jaw clenched.

"I remember the first time one of your handmaids caught your eye, your confusion. He let you question whether you were normal to feel lust for other women. Never offering a word of solace or reproval" Jaime growled disbelievingly, his upper lip curling.

"You expect any different from Tywin Lannister?..." Cersei snorted bitterly "...A better Father, there are hundreds of thousands. A better mentor, there is not. I married when I was commanded to, that is all that mattered to him. He has informed me that I can 'keep' Sansa"

Jaime's anger turned partially to confusion, "Why?." He asked her. She was the only living soul who could contend with Tywin Lannister's cunning and understand her Lord Hand's logic. Cersei was his only worthy Heir and Jaime acknowledged that fact since they were young.

"Because he knows what I will do when Robb and Catelyn Stark are brought to me..." She turned her incisive gaze onto her brother "...I cannot leave Robb Stark as Lord of Winterfell, he will suffer the repercussions of his little rebellion, but I have promised Sansa that I will not kill him."

"What will you do then?"

"Only a Northerner can rule the North. I will name Sansa the Lady of Winterfell, but I will not let her leave King's Landing. Catelyn Stark is a wise women, mostly, and she is widely respected. She will rule in Sansa's absence."

"You will make her Key to the North..." Jaime surmised with a nod "...And Father will not harm her because of the merit that comes with the title"

"I am going to ensnare all of the Kingdoms, Jaime. I will make certain that in the centuries to come a rebellion against the Iron Throne is impossible" Cersei swore.

"You would force peace?"

"Peace is for the weak and the complacent, neither of which I am. I would force obedience..." She amended "...And it has already begun"

"I know you are loathe to break your word, I don't think you have ever done so, but what of Robb and Catelyn Stark?. You said yourself, Sansa is not the child they remember, do you think they will quietly accept that she is your..."

"Concubine..." Cersei said firmly "...And yes, they will have no choice for they will, if it has not happened already, owe me a life debt" At Jaime's frown, she swiftly divulged Robb Stark's futile attempt at securing an alliance with Walder Frey by marrying his Uncle to a Frey girl, even though he himself had broken his vow to marry one of the vile Lord's daughters.

Jaime rolled his eyes. She smirked and then went on the tell her brother of their Father's plot to bribe Robb's remaining allies into slaughtering the young pup, his wife, unborn child and his mother.

"I have dispatched The Hound at the head of an expeditionary force to The Towers of Frey. He will save the Starks in my name and then he will bring them all, The Starks, Frey and...Bolton, here, to face trial. The Wolves, I will collar. Frey will suffer the full penalty for treason. As for Bolton...I feel a sudden fascination with the act of flaying, don't you?" A predatory smirk curled the corner of her luscious red mouth upward.

"The irony will inspire songs" Jaime's sanguineous grin brimmed with righteous malice. The Sigil of House Bolton was that of the Flayed Man, she was going to enjoy making a likeness between Roose Bolton and his own Sigil.

"Indeed. But for all the agony Bolton will endure, it will be nothing compared with what I will do to Locke." Cersei's eyes darkened at the mere thought of the man.

"I'll look forward to it" Jaime growled.

She glanced passed his shoulder, out the window, at the early morning sun. From it's position and her intimate knowledge of her family's routine she gauged that Sansa would have risen from _their_ bed, bathed and dressed, and was now in the process of coaxing her cubs from their dens. They would be expecting her to join them for breakfast and she would not disappoint them.

"I have not yet told Myrcella and Tommen of your return, if I had told them last night they would not have rested until they had seen you. But you should join us for breakfast" Cersei said. She and her brother still had much to discuss, but that could wait.

She frowned when Jaime began fidgeting in his high-backed chair across the circular chamber, appearing very much like a child being scolded by his mother. She scoffed her disgust and shook her head slowly. Only one thing could make Jaime look so troubled in her presence. It was the one thing they, as Twins, disagreed vehemently upon.

"I have already agreed to have breakfast with Tyrion..." Jaime admitted. Cersei's long slender fingers instinctively curled into the soft silk white padding of the chaise beneath her.

"...I want to see Tommen and Myrcella but I will not break my word to _our _brother. We could both join you" Jaime proposed, actually daring to look at her hopefully when he knew what her answer would be.

"I would rather skin myself alive then allow that filthy creature around my children" Cersei hissed, deadly serious, she rapidly stood up from the chaise. Her Twin sighed. She knew that sigh, knew what was coming.

"He didn't choose to kill Mother, Cersei. I don't understand why you hate him so" Cersei sneered incredulously at him as she lifted her heavy, tawny coloured fur coat from the back of the chaise and shrugged into the long flowing garment.

"What memories do you have of Mother, Jaime?" Cersei suddenly asked.

Jaime frowned his confusion. She knew why. Her response was a deflection, generally whenever they veered toward this particular argument, she didn't deflect, she adopted a vicious offensive. But so soon after her beloved brother's return, she didn't wish to argue with him, still she would not have her devote convictions questioned by anyone. She would never willing hurt Jaime, or anyone she cared for, if it were not for Jaime's obvious affection for The Dwarf, she would have already devised some unfortunate and excruciating end for Tyrion. Her desire to kill The Imp had not dulled, and it never would. If she ever had a reason to, she would kill him.

Jaime's lips parted and then snapped closed. His broad shoulders sagged, "None. I have no memories of Mother." They had only been four years old so she wasn't overly surprised at the admission.

Cersei nodded stiffly, "I do." Her earliest memories were of her Mother's melodious laughter brightening the dreary crags of Casterly Rock. She deeply missed that sound.

She finally understood how Jaime could defend the wretched little Imp to her, why they would probably never be in agreement on this. One cannot mourn for what one doesn't remember. When their Mother was torn apart giving life to that lecherous little stump, she had lost more than Jaime. She could see the same realisation in her Twin's eyes and she knew they would not have this argument again.

"Join us for dinner then" Cersei said, knowing that he would not decline. Jaime nodded his assent and she turned to leave.

"I look forward to becoming acquainted with my new sister" She didn't need to look at his face to know he was grinning from ear to ear, he was happy for her. With her back facing him, she smirked to herself.

**TBC. . .**


End file.
